Over the Horizon
by Glennfiddich12
Summary: While on missions of discovery, two cultures meet and must face the challenges of their enemies and their pasts together. A Battlestar Galactica/Stargate crossover.
1. Prologue

_**Authors' Note:**__ The story that follows is the product of a small group of authors and began, like so many stories, as a series of discussions among interested people who asked that oldest of questions: _Well, what about this…?_ Each author has brought their own strengths to the project and we've had fun working on this endeavor together. The authors involved are Glennfiddich12, Jumster, Lightning_Count, Rastamon and Spartan303._

_As we go forward, it will be the policy of this group not to discuss who wrote which particular chapters, sections or scenes of this story. As we see it, this is a group effort and we take credit and criticism for it as a group. We hope that you enjoy this story and have an appreciation for the work and effort that has gone into it. _

_Finally, we state for the record that this story is for personal entertainment purposes and no financial profit is expected or sought. It may be reproduced and disseminated for personal use only and not for financial profit. All characters are the property of the creators, producers and distributors of _Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis_ and _Battlestar Galactica_ with the exception of those original characters developed for this story._

**OVER THE HORIZON**

**PROLOGUE**

**Jungles of Medra,  
Scorpia  
R6/21349  
35 years after the Cylon War**

Chirps and buzzes indicated the heavy insect life prevalent in the jungles of Medra. Due to the planet's slightly lower gravity, the trees grew much taller than they normally would. The sun shone down on a giant green-hued stone head that stared down from above a vine-covered gateway. Behind the gateway, a small jungle-covered mountain rose. Two men emerged from the dense jungle foliage and were struck by the sight of the stone head.

The two men could not be more different. One was younger-looking and chocolate-dark, and the other was older and had a noticeable, slight sunburn. The older man fanned himself with a brown felt fedora.

"There it is, Anthem!" beamed the older man. "The Otori Temple of Medra!"

Dr. Rhadamanthys "Anthem" Cyrus Ataiun nodded and looked around at the jungle. Here and there, hints of broken masonry peeked through the choking foliage. "The town's gone, Casus. At least until the museum excavates it."

"And that hill.... If I'm not imagining things, I'd say there's a pyramid hidden under all that."

"You're imagining things, Casus," Anthem said with a half smile. "The Otori couldn't have the time or resources for building a pyramid."

Casus Sandral continued to admire the gateway whose opening hinted at a large temple complex that was being taken over by the jungle. Suddenly, he slapped a side of his neck. Grimacing, he looked at a particularly large squashed mosquito on the palm of his hand.

"Frakking bugs...." As he rubbed the bug off on his pants, Casus said, "Why the Otori settled here, I'll never understand."

Chuckling, Anthem said, "It was probably their way of avoiding temptation." He took a rolled parchment out of his satchel which was a modified Mark VII gas mask bag and unrolled it. Pointing at a marked floor plan on the parchment and the accompanying script, he said, "If the writings of Berosus Sagan are accurate, it should be here."

In the distant past, an ascetic Gemenese religious group, the Otori Sect, built the temple for the High Worship of the Sunstorm which occurred every seven years. That was the only time the Otori priests sanctified and permitted physical contact between the genders among their followers and themselves. Understandably, the Otori remained a small minority, but they reacted badly to such common social elements as socialators. The settlement flourished in isolation until the Cylon War wiped it out despite reinforcements from the Colonial Marines, one of whom was a certain Corporal Socrata Thrace who had developed entomophobia in the jungles of Medra. The jungle then eventually erased traces of the Otori settlement, claiming it once more except for the temple even though lianas, vines and trees were working their way against the temple's stonework.

Casus and Anthem walked through the gateway, climbing over ruined steps, vines and ledges. Occasionally, they had to use machetes to slash through the overgrowth. Occasionally, they would spot battle damage through the overgrowth. Bullet holes, even a few grenade and missile craters. Legacies of the Cylon War.

The two men came upon a pond at the edge of a broken stone path and a waterfall splashing into the pond.

Anthem jumped into the shallow pond and waded toward the waterfall.

"Hey, Anthem! What are you doing?"

Anthem looked over his shoulder at Casus. "Getting into the temple. Coming?"

Realizing what he meant, Casus jumped into the pond and followed him. He saw Dr. Cyrus disappear into the falling water. Casus took a deep breath and stepped through the water. He found himself staring into a hallway. He was impressed. The temple's construction had enabled it to endure the diversion of a water channel over the complex.

The interior was wet and dark, hanging with plant life and stalactites. Casus took a stick from his satchel and forcefully bent it, causing it to glow brightly. Anthem took a similar light-stick from his own satchel. Even here, broken bullet holes marred the stone corridor walls. The men's echoing footsteps intermittently overpowered the sound of loud dripping, whistling air drafts and the chatter of insects. Occasionally, they came across a skeletal body, even the rare rusted remains of a destroyed Centurion.

At the end of the dipping hall, they could see a giant green-hued feminine-looking head carved into the wall. Its eyes looked golden, or at least gilt. The head was big enough for its open mouth to serve as an entryway. Flanking the huge idol head were four statues of nude women, two on each side. Each of the stone women held an object over their heads and the object looked suspiciously like a winged phallus.

Casus and Anthem smirked at each other. High Worship, indeed.

The entrance in the idol's mouth was blocked by a stone slab. As they looked around, Anthem studied one of the female statues closely. He wet two fingers of his hand in his mouth and held his hand out, waving it slightly along the statue's edges.

"Dr. Cyrus, I thought you don't swing that way?"

Anthem smirked back at Casus. In answer, he grabbed both of the stone breasts on the statue and pushed. The statue seemed to move slightly and there was a rumbling click.  
The stone slab in the head's mouth lifted up. Beyond was a stone stairway.

"Ah. A secret entrance. Ingenious," enthused Casus.

Anthem and Casus came down the stone steps to a tight landing. Framing the landing's archway was a carefully strung network of dead vines, each somehow hooked into the wall, narrowing the opening even more. Anthem lowered his glow stick to the floor of the landing. The landing was carpeted with human skeletal remains, one on top of another, all squashed flat as from a great weight.

Casus frowned at the bony remains as Anthem looked up at the ceiling of the landing. Anthem stepped onto the bones which made a cracking noise under his boots.

"Try not to touch the vines."

The corridor continued on straight beyond the archway. Casus noticed the inscriptions on the walls. The glow from his stick revealed carvings and murals of stiff-looking men and women with animal heads.

"Anthem, look."

Dr. Cyrus's nose came within inches of the wall as he studied the inscriptions and accompanying artwork. The animal-headed people had the front of their torsos shown while their heads and legs and feet were in profile. One of the women was recognizable as cow-headed Hera, the Queen of Heaven. Another was dog-headed Hecate, Goddess of the Underworld, to whom were human sacrifices made in ancient Colonial times. "Looks Chandaran, doesn't it?"

Casus nodded. "The stone looks older. Much older than the Otori Temple."

"Fifth Kingdom, at the latest. But it fell over a thousand years before the Otori ever came from Gemenon." Anthem frowned. "And Chandara's on Caprica, not Gemenon. Plus, the Chandarans didn't have spacecraft. They must have come here with Poseidos' help."

"This complex is probably the reason they chose to settle here." Casus looked up at the ceiling, seeing beyond it. "I was right. That was a pyramid up there."

Anthem nodded. "A small one. Berosus said that the Otori held a secret knowledge. This Chandaran temple must be part of it. But why did the Chandarans build here? The logistics of such a project at a time when only Poseidos still had spacecraft...."

Casus shrugged. "C'mon. We can study all this properly once we find it."

It. It was the reason they were here. Anthem acknowledged Casus's point by turning away from the wall. But he stopped in his tracks as he stared down the corridor. Fifty feet down to the hallway's end, there were signs of sun light.

Casus said, "I think we're close."

Cyrus stood still looking down the hall.

Casus was impatient. "Come on. There's nothing down there."

"That's what scares me."

They began walking down the hall side by side, inching forward. Suddenly, Casus's lead foot came down and through the floor. As he began to pitch forward, wind milling his arms, Cyrus grabbed him by the belt and pulled him back. They both looked down at the 'floor'.  
Anthem swung his glow stick across the floor. It cut open, falling away to reveal a black pit almost as wide as the hall. The illusory floor was made of dust-covered cobwebs. Casus picked up a broken piece of stone and dropped it down the pit. No sound. The two men exchanged glances and looked at the edge along the wall. Testing it with a glow stick, they found it to be solid. So they shimmied sideways along it. When they were both standing on the other side, there was a moment of silence in which they heard from far, far below--SPLASH! The men exchanged a glance once more, appreciating the pit's depth.

Ahead of them, there was another archway with heavy wooden doors closed shut. Anthem laid his fingers on the carvings on the doors. Two women were carved into the door, clasping hands where the door would split open.

"Aurora and Pythia," said Casus.

"Yeah, but why are they paired? I've never seen them this way." Anthem looked around the two women and saw an inscription written above them. He pointed at it. "Look. It's Old Gemenese."

'Life here began out there.' The very first sentence in the Sacred Scrolls.

"The Otori must have added this door when they settled here."

"Look there." Anthem pointed to the area beneath the two ladies' feet. There was a representation of an upside-down five-pointed star set within the circle formed by an ouroboros, a snake swallowing its own tail. The lines of the sign seemed to be of dark flames. The Sign of Iblis, the champion of Skotos, Darkness, forever fighting against Phos, the Light of the Lords of Kobol. It had been theorized that this dualistic cosmology was the ancestor of the belief held by those who worshiped in modern mithrasaries on Gemenon.

What did it mean that the Otori Sect carved a symbol of Iblis upon this door?

The door opened to reveal a large domed room. A mural covered the dome, showing a brilliant golden sunburst at the dome's peak, surrounded by silver stars in the lapis lazuli blue heavens. A burning god stood in a chariot of flames that seemed to fall and tumble down through the heavens away from the sunburst. When Anthem saw this mural, he was strongly reminded of the mosaic on the dome of the Great Sanctuary Temple in the city of Sarance. Maybe a relationship of some kind?

Hanging down from the dome ceiling were a circle of evenly spaced chains, some of which still held metal-grill lanterns. Twelve evenly-spaced holes in the dome cast beams of sunlight down, causing a large pool of water to glitter. To one side of the pool, there was a soft slight blue glow as from sunlight shining through an underwater tunnel. In the center of the pool, there was a small pentagon-shaped island with an altar, also shaped like a pentagon lay on its side. It was connected to the archway by a narrow bridge. On the altar, there was a green globe within a cage of gold netting, its connecting points studded with rubies.

"Ha-ha! Anthem, we've found it!" Casus trotted across the bridge.

Alarmed, Anthem reached out for his friend, failing to catch his shirt. "Casus, wait! It could be a trap!"

Laughing, Casus said, "You Capricans - so full of swagger, yet so timid in the face of real adventure! Have a little courage, will you?"

As his friend ran over the bridge to the altar island, Anthem glanced down at the pool and caught a shadow moving underwater. It seemed to be a school of fish. Or a big animal.

As Casus ran, he knocked aside the body of a small dead bird which fell into the water. Almost immediately, the water where the bird fell boiled as it was attacked. Anthem swallowed at the sight. Flesh-eating fishes. When Casus reached the altar, he grabbed the caged globe off its pedestal. Suddenly, there was a rumble as an iron clasp grabbed his ankle and held him fast. The bridge cracked a bit as the island began to sink slowly.

"It's a trap! Anthem, help!"

Glancing down at the water and its apparently flesh-eating fish, Anthem quietly replied, "I don't know, Casus...I'm feeling kinda timid."

However, Anthem looked around, took a deep breath and ran across the bridge, which cracked further as the island broke its connection with it and the bridge began to lose its end support. Upon reaching Casus, he took the jeweled sphere and shoved it into his satchel. He took out a pickax from his belt and started swinging at the stone holding the chain connected to the iron clasp. Sparks and bits of stone flew. But Anthem had to swing hard and for a long time, chipping at the stone away while the blade itself was getting chipped as well. Water began to slosh over the round stone island platform's edge.

"Hurry!" screamed Casus.

Remembering the dead bird's body under attack in the water, Anthem kept swinging hard. The pickax blade broke. He seized Casus's own and started using it, too. The water was now sloshing against their boots. Finally, the stone was chipped away enough for Casus to pull the chain out of the floor.

Immediately, the two men jumped up onto the still cracking bridge. Their weight caused the stone beneath to crumble and fall away. They had no choice but to run across the bridge, the stones falling away behind them, splashing into the water. The chain on Casus's iron clasp whipped behind him as he ran. Anthem had to fall back a bit to avoid the short chain. Anthem felt himself beginning to fall as the bridge's fall overtook him. Casus jumped onto the landing just as the bridge's end began to crumble into the water. He grabbed at Anthem's jacket as his legs dipped into the water. Casus pitched himself backward, pulling his friend over the landing's broken edge.

Hands reached out and grabbed both Casus and Anthem.

Panting from the exertion of running from a watery death, the two archaeologists looked up and saw that there were four men. One of them, clearly the leader, had dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes, a sardonic smirk, a slightly unshaven look, looked rugged and to be in his 30's. He looked between Casus and Anthem. "Dr. Cyrus. Dr. Sandral."

Anthem shook off the hands grasping his arm and looked suspiciously at the blond man. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

"Korben Cawdor. We followed and observed you, Dr. Cyrus." Korben turned to Casus and extended his hand. "Dr. Sandral."

Casus looked at the open hand. It was clear that Korben wasn't expecting a handshake. He sighed and took out a pistol from within his jacket and handed it to Korben. The blond man extended his other hand, smiling. Casus glanced at Anthem and tightened his lips. He shook his head.

"It belongs in a museum. Specifically, the Delphi Museum of the Colonies."

Korben was still smiling as he gripped Casus's pistol and shot Casus with it.

The older archaeologist dropped to his knees with a cry of pain, clutching at the spreading blossom of red on his chest, and fell backwards and sideways. The blood soon flowed on the stone floor and over the edge into the water.

"Juno's cunt!" swore Anthem. Intensely aware that the gun was now pointed at him, he had to resist rushing to his dying friend's side. He glared at Korben. "I hope this is worth the frakking cubits you're getting."

Korben laughed. "I'm not after the cubits." He gestured at the three toughs who came with him. "They are."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"My..." Korben paused as he smiled. "...brothers and sisters are aware of the legendary Otori Treasure. We know that the Otori smuggled it out off of Gemenon when the fundamentalists seized power in the Holy Empire of Gemenon a century before the War. It is supposed to reveal truths about the Galleon and all of the Tribes."

Anthem stared. That was more than what Berosus Sagan wrote of the mysterious Otori Treasure which had just turned out to be the green jeweled sphere that Casus took from the pentagon island. All he knew was that the Otori were supposed to have a secret knowledge. That was all.

"And now you're joining your friend, Dr. Cyrus." Korben raised Casus's pistol and aimed it squarely at Anthem's forehead.

"Whoa! Wait, wait, wait!" Anthem reached into his satchel, causing the thugs to tense. He slowly and carefully took out the sphere. The sphere seemed to be of green jade, though it felt too light for it. The rubies connecting the points of the glittering gold net seemed to be arranged in an oddly random manner. Anthem took this moment to admire it for a short while and handed it over to Korben.

Korben held it up to study it. "Beautiful. And these stars...."

Anthem punched Korben in the face, knocking the jeweled sphere out of his hand. It tumbled onto the floor. Anthem immediately seized the blond man's belt, pivoted on a foot to strengthen the pull and threw Korben into the blood-stained water of the pool. The archaeologist then turned to face the three henchmen with kicks and punches.

Meanwhile, Korben resurfaced, his face stained and streaming with Casus' blood in the water. He began to swim to the platform and water around him began to boil. He started screaming as the flesh-eating fish devoured him. The scream gurgled and was drowned out as the fish pulled him underwater. More blood immediately stained the water. The bubbles eventually ceased.

Anthem panted as he looked around to see that the unconscious thugs were not getting up from the floor. He knelt beside his friend, Casus, and saw that he was already dead.

"Cack," swore Anthem. He took a deep breath and reached into a pocket. He took out a rectangular gold cubit coin with the sign of Tauron stamped on a side, and inserted it into Casus' mouth. At least his friend would be able to pay the boatman for the voyage to the afterlife. Anthem stood and looked around.

The jewel-caged sphere of the Otori Treasure still lay on the floor. Getting it had exacted an unexpectedly heavy price. Anthem picked it up and put it back into his satchel as he walked back up the hall to get out of the temple. He took out a radio and manipulated its dials until it squawked and began to silently put out an Aerian merchant code to summon a friend's ship for a pickup. His thoughts went to the sphere safely contained in his satchel. There was a clue connected to it: Queen Almestra of Chandara. He needed to get back to Delphi University. That meant it was back to Caprica for him. But a question lingered in his mind:

Who the hell was Korben Cawdor?

**On a Ship Somewhere Else**

In a large dark room with occasional and random square lights on the walls, a bright white light shone from within a large black tub. Cables ran to the tub's head. A gurgling sounded. A male hand covered in thick amniotic fluid reached up and grasped the wide round ribbed black edge of the tub.

**Delphi University,  
Delphi, Caprica  
D9/21351  
37 years after the Cylon War  
(Two Years Later)**

"Archaeology is..."

Dr. Cyrus stood before his class, dressed in professorial tweeds. Over the two years since the adventure at Medra, the professor had let his hair grow into dreadlocks long enough to reach his chest, which were now tied back behind his head. He turned to the blackboard behind himself and used a chalk to write the word FACT.

"...the search for fact. Not truth. If its truth you're looking for, Dr. Tyree's Philosophy class is right down the hall."

The students chuckled.

"So forget any ideas you've got about lost cities, exotic travel, and digging up the worlds. Do not follow maps to buried treasure...."

In the corridor outside the lecture hall, a captain of the Colonial Marine Corps approached the door and peered through the window in the door at Dr. Cyrus lecturing his students. He knew that the professor taught a combination of archaeology, anthropology and history. Some called it archaeoanthropology.

"Seventy percent of all archaeology is research, research, research. Which means actually reading. We cannot afford to take mythology at face value." Anthem turned to point at a poster showing a muscular bearded man grappling with a serpent. The serpent-entwined Staff of Asclepius was in an upper corner of the poster.

"For example, Ophiuchus represents the thirteenth sign of the zodiac and the fabled Thirteenth Colony." He pointed at the calendar posted on a wall. "And Etos Kosmou 21351.'Etos Kosmou' means Year of the Universe. We're expected to believe that the universe was created by the Lords of Kobol 21,351 years ago." A twist of the lips showed how little Anthem thought of that. "The very first sentence in the Sacred Scrolls: 'Life here began out there.' If we believe that all of the Sacred Scrolls were written on Kobol, it implies that Kobol is not Humanity's mother world. It's likelier that the Scrolls were written after Colonization."

The students sat silently, though several frowned at that last statement.

"What are the facts? Where are the facts?"

A bell rang. Anthem turn to stand at his desk as the students began to disperse. A pretty female student quietly put a note on the professor's desk as Anthem continued to speak. He knew that the note would be the student's attempt at flirtation and hid a wry smile. It wouldn't work on him at all.

"Next week: 'Poseidology'. Start with the excavation of Naukratis by Heiro Nabon in 21227 which led to our understanding of the four ancient empires of Poseidos, Chandara, Pelledrine and Armakia."

The captain approached as the last students departed the lecture hall.

"Dr. Cyrus? I'm Captain Atticus Rourke of the Colonial Marine Corps."

Anthem gave him only a glance as he gathered folders and papers into his briefcase. "I'm not serving. I'm too old to join up."

The balding man's gaze was unfeeling. "Can we speak in private?"

"I'm busy. I still have mid-terms to grade."

Rourke came one step closer. "It's a matter of Colonial security."

Anthem frowned as he looked back at the captain and thought for a moment. "All right. My office."

On the walk through the university campus to his office, Anthem had learned that Atticus Rourke was a liaison to the Ministry of Defense and acted as an intermediary between the Colonial Fleet, the President, civilian contractors and scientists. Arriving at his office, Anthem unlocked the door and opened it. Inside, a uniformed woman was seated in a chair in front of the professor's desk, looking up expectantly. Her black hair was gathered in a bun at the back of her head. A military briefcase stood beside the chair. A folder sat on Anthem's desk.

"What the hell?"

The woman stood up. "Christa Nolan, Colonial Intelligence."

Anthem scowled. That explained her ability to get past the locked door into his office. He looked back at Capt. Rourke behind him. His expression was blank as he gestured for the professor to enter and close the door shut.

"What is this about? What do MiniDef and ColIntel want with me?"

In response, Agent Nolan took out a photograph from the folder and showed it to Anthem. "You are Rhadamanthys Cyrus Ataiun, correct? Is this your family, Dr. Ataiun?"

Anthem scowled. It was an old family portrait showing the entire Ataiun clan. Almost all of the Ataiun men, including a much younger Anthem, had shaven heads. He could see his cousin, the Sire Tassilo Ataiun standing behind the seated old family patriarch, Sire Asterion Ataiun, and his wife, the Siress Medea. This photo was before the Tauron aristocratic clan disowned another cousin, Phelan.

Anthem's voice was tight as he responded, "Its Dr. Cyrus, Ms. Nolan. And yes, it's my family." He had to drag that last bit out of himself. He didn't like being associated with that family.

Christa said, "Your parents died in an incident back in...What was it, 21330?"

"Ah yes, let me think," Anthem broke into a savage imitation of a pensive academician, "yes, I believe it was '30. An excellent year for a tragedy, wouldn't you say?"

The woman realized she'd made a hurtful mistake but the ColIntel agent merely nodded, satisfied, and replaced the photo in the folder.

Anthem didn't let her off that easily. "No, really, if it would amuse you, let's definitely have chitchat about the way my parents died."

The female agent said nothing and gazed at Anthem with a blank expression, refusing to be provoked.

Exasperated, Anthem said, "What is this about? The military doesn't get interested in archaeologists for no reason."

"Correct," said Rourke. "It's a job for you."

"A job? I already have one right here in Delphi University. And I'm not joining the military."

"We could arrange a sabbatical for you, Doctor. The job...it's about the Otori Treasure. Interested?"

Anthem stared at the Marine captain. The Otori Treasure. It was one of the few archaeological objects that confounded him.

"Agent Nolan?" prompted Rourke.

The woman reached into her briefcase, brought out a brown manila envelope and held it out to Anthem who looked at it as if it was a poisonous serpent.

"What's this?"

"Travel plans. All paid for, of course."

When Anthem took out a piece of paper from the envelope, it turned out to be an Eversun flight ticket to the city of Sarance. That raised his eyebrows. Eversun fielded luxury starliners. Was the military trying to sweeten the pot for him?

Agent Nolan tossed the folder of Anthem's background information back into the briefcase and snapped it shut. With that, she opened the office door and stepped out without any further words. Before Captain Rourke followed her, he said, "Be seeing you."

**Sarance, Caprica  
E4/21351****  
**  
Sarance! As daylight broke in a milky haze over what was once called Queen of Cities, Anthem Cyrus studied the metropolis from the rail of a water-taxi crossing the strait from the Sarantian suburb of Deapolis. The dawn-misted sea gave way to ancient fortified sea-walls protecting a city flung upon the humped backs of hills: great domes of temples and palaces pushing head and shoulders over tight-clustered white dwellings. Once called Sarantium and Videssos in that order, once capital of a half of the ancient Rhodian Empire that survived the fall of its capital, Rhodias, Sarance stood at a strait where the continents of Inachus and Metis almost met. It may not have the cosmopolitan glitter of Caprica City at the continent of Alpheus, but Sarance had an old world charm, with its domed temples, palaces and forums left over from the old empires before the crumbling Sarantine Empire aligned itself with the Union of Kingdoms on the continent of Lamos and the United States of Alpheus to form the Commonwealth of Caprica which would later serve as a founding state of the United Colonies of Kobol. Unlike so many other cities in the Colonies, Sarance was one of the few that survived the Cylon War relatively intact, though it saw combat.

The archaeologist had just come from an excavation at the Galleon Temple some ways into Inachus. He knew that on the other side of the city in Metis, the still-thriving city of Chandara stood at the edge of the Bythian Desert, also called the Great Caprican Desert among the Colonies. The great cities of Chandara, Sarance and Vitalia formed a large triangle and the region contained within was often merely called the Triangle. He had been investigating the Chandaran necropolis near the Galleon Temple Complex, including the tomb of Queen Almestra. Strictly speaking, he was supposed to go straight to Sarance from Delphi, but he had time before the appointment so who was he to not take advantage of a detour?

Anthem was aware of the old idiomatic quote "Sailing to Sarantium." To say of a man that he was sailing to Sarantium was to say that his life was on the cusp of change; poised for emergent greatness, brilliance, fortune--or else at the very precipice of a final and absolute fall as he met something too vast for his capacity. The professor scoffed at the thought. He had had plenty of adventures under his belt, not least of all the one to the Otori Temple of Medra on Scorpia.

As the water-taxi drew closer into the Golden Horn, the great natural river-shaped harbor in the midst of Sarance, Anthem admired the old city. Founded by the Rhodian Emperor Saranos at a time of troubles, its position on the strait allowed it to surpass the great port city of Vitalia, itself founded by the Trakesian King Vitalos the Great. Anthem's eyes drifted past the ramparted hill of the Athena Acropolis and the imposing dome of the Great Sanctuary over to the Grand Palace. Rather than a single building, it presented itself as a collection of palaces, gardens and pavilions within a walled compound--a city within a city. It served as the main seat of the Emperors after the fall of Rhodias. The message he recently got from Director Maspero Bambridge of the Supreme Council of Antiquities requested that he attend the appointment in the museum in the palace precinct.

When the water-taxi docked in the Golden Horn, Anthem was able to get a cab to go through the city to the Grand Palace Museum. Along the way, he gazed out the window as the cab drove past the fire temple of Mithras Ascendant for sacrifice, the Column of Emperor Galba Rex who had expanded the Rhodian Empire to its greatest extent, the monumental gateway leading into the famous bazaar of the Covered Forum where one might smell the bewitching aromas of Meeramu curries, the sweet fragrance of Virgon wood and the fruity tang of Fimli oranges.

Closer to the Grand Palace complex, the Temple of Hecate Redemptrix stood in the shadow of the Athena Acropolis which contained the large Classical Temple of Athena Victrix. The domed Temple of Zeus Pantocrator stood across a large gardened-and-fountained plaza from the Acropolis and the Great Sanctuary, also known as the Great Pantheon even though it was dedicated to divine wisdom. The Four Rivers Fountain in the center of the plaza held up the Obelisk of Saranos, honoring the Emperor who founded this city.

The plaza was nothing like the Forum in Delphi and the Caprica Presidium which consciously imitated the Forum of the City of the Gods on Kobol, but Sarance held a beauty all on its own. Anthem believed that it was better if one was creative without imitating the ancients. This avoided criticisms, as happened in Delphi and Caprica City.

Once Anthem had paid the cab fare, he decided to go into the Great Sanctuary before meeting Director Bambridge in the Grand Palace. Looking up, he could see the eerie similarity between the temple dome's Sarantine mosaic and the mural he saw in the Otori Temple at Medra. A glittering gold sunburst in the dome's apex, sapphire blue heavens with silver stars. A burning god, mouth open in a silent scream, in a fiery chariot with four uncontrolled flaming horses falling down from the heavens: Heladikos, also known as Hermes Trismegistus. Caprica's two moons flanked the falling god. Lining the dome's edge were the twelve constellations and zodiacal signs representing the Thirteen Colonies: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Ophiuchus, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces.

Trying to break through the link of constellations and zodiacal signs was a dark shape hinting at a demon with ruby red eyes: Iblis, champion of Skotos, Darkness, forever fighting against Phos, the Light of Kobol. Also known as Lucifer, the Adversary, the Prince of Darkness, Mephistopheles and Diabolis.

Surrounding the apse at the end of the temple were the Ten Sibyls of the Colonies. Anthem recognized one of the holy women's faces to be that of the Empress Alixana. He smiled at the Sarantine empress' conceit of inserting herself into the Sanctuary and into the Colonial mythos. Once a courtesan, the empress laid down the groundwork for the Sarantine Empire's renaissance of power instigated by her successors.

In the apse over the altar itself was a mosaic of Heladikos, also known as Hermes Trismegistus. He seemed to be a youthful figure in the robe of a magician with the face of the divine Apollo, the sun god, with a confident smile and shining eyes. Above his head was the mysterious sign of Phos, the Light of Kobol, the sign of eternal life, like an endless twisted cord, forming the infinity symbol. About his waist was a serpent-cincture or girdle, the ouroboros, the serpent devouring its own tail below Heladikos' navel. In his right hand was a wand raised towards heaven, the sky or the element æther, while his left hand pointed to the ground. This iconic gesture had multiple meanings, but it was endemic to the Mysteries, symbolizing divine immanence, the ability of the magician to bridge the gap between heaven and earth. Flanking Heladikos were the symbols of the four Classical elements of earth, air, fire and water, with himself representing the fifth element, spirit. Beneath were roses and lilies to show the culture of aspiration. Above all this was a golden winged sun-disk sending down rays that ended in hands, one of which offered an ankh, the sign of life, to Hermes/Heladikos.

"Amazing how much heresy there is in our mythos, no?"

Anthem turned at the intruding voice. "Director! I thought you'd be waiting for me in the Museum."

Maspero Bambridge, the Director of Antiquities in this part of Caprica, smiled. "I'm aware of your disregard for the rules and your tendency to take detours. If Zeus wouldn't go to Olympus, Olympus must go to Zeus."

"What did you mean by heresy, Mr. Bambridge?"

For answer, the Antiquities Director pointed up at the mosaic of Heladikos. "Hermes Trismegistus. Hermes Thrice-Master. Son of the Morning. His cult was a heresy and an underground movement. It is amazing that Empress Alixana allowed the mosaicist, Crispin, to put him up there. Hermeticism has faded into a small movement today. Did you know that Heladikos was also sometimes called Lucifer, Light-Bringer?"

Anthem nodded, looking up at the dark figure in the dome. "Just like Iblis."

"Iblis was supposed to be a jealous Lord of Kobol who fell from grace after using his powers for evil purposes. Who knows how much of Heladikos was really Iblis? I think the story of Heladikos, a combination of Prometheus and Phaeton, coming down from heaven to teach us fire, language and the attainment of wisdom, was consciously created as a protagonist against the antagonist, the Prince of Darkness. Zeus supposedly killed Heladikos with a bolt of lightning for the crime of elevating us from the level of mere beasts. An old Sarantine story had his father, the sun god, either Helios or Apollo, resurrecting him through the ankh." Maspero chuckled at that and quoted, "'Phos is the Life and the Resurrection.' Hah! Just like Dionysus, Persephone and Mithras."

Anthem shrugged. "I'm here for the facts, not some truth we might glean from our mythology."

Maspero raised an eyebrow. "Facts?" He pointed again at the mosaic of Heladikos. "See that sign above his head? The infinity symbol. It was used by that old terrorist group, the Soldiers of the One and is still used by monotheists. That is a fact."

Again, Anthem shrugged. "We can't claim to be free of sins ourselves. Zeus was a child-molester and a rapist. He ate his first wife, Metis, before she bore him Athena. The Lords, especially Hecate, once demanded human sacrifices from us. Yet, we still worship them."

Maspero gave him a half smirk. "Perhaps it's a good thing that our religion is orthoprax, not orthodox. So we are free to either take the Lords seriously or see them as metaphors. Or even be atheists."

It was Anthem's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Including Poseidon? He's the Lord of the Seas and our spacers worship him as Lord of Spaceships."

"I thought you're here for the facts, not philosophical or religious truths? Anyway, that particular practice may have come down to us from the Empire of Poseidos."

"Or from Kobol," countered Anthem. "Poseidos was only an island-city that still had spacecraft after all the other first states in the Colonies lost the knowledge. That, of course, became moot when Poseidos sank in the Enipeus Sea. Only Kobol had the scope of influence to affect all of the Colonies this way."

"That's what we'll find out."

Anthem frowned at that statement. "What do you mean?"

"Come with me."

Maspero led Anthem out of the Sanctuary down an avenue leading past the plaza between the Sanctuary and the Temple of Zeus Pantocrator until they came upon a sumptuous gateway leading into the Grand Palace. It turned out to be much bigger and more sumptuous than the Colonial President's office and residence in the Apollo Palace in the Caprica Presidium.

In one of the palace buildings, they went through the Hall of Emperors, passing busts, statues, mosaics and framed paintings of Trakesian, Rhodian and Sarantine rulers including Trakesian Kings Demetrius and Azimenarius, Emperors Fortunato, Galba Rex, Saranos, and Alixana. The Trakesian King Vitalos the Great, gazing heavenward, his long curly locks and Apolline face hiding a fierce spirit that conquered the huge Bassanid Empire in Inachus and set a standard by which all later rulers measured themselves by even though that empire tore itself apart upon his death with no clear heir. The Golden Emperor Krispos, his empress, Anthimos III's widow Dara, and their son and successor Phostis. Krispos had smashed the Kingdom of Makuran, successor of the Bassanids, and sacked their capital city of Mashiz. Saranos II who renamed his capital from Videssos to Sarance, and victim of the Republican Revolutions that massacred most of his relatives. General Strakus who restored order in the short-lived and revolution-torn Sarantian Republic, convinced its people to join the Caprican Commonwealth and became one of Caprica's leaders in the First Colonial Conflict.

Maspero stopped at the statue of the Mad Emperor Deius Rex, son of Galba Rex, who sought to restore Hecate's human sacrifice cult. The statue showed the Mad Emperor locked in mortal combat with his archenemy, the blue-tattooed northern chieftain Brath. The Director took out an amulet that was two snakes, one gold and one silver, intertwined and biting each others' tails in imitation of the Ouroboros. Maspero inserted the amulet into a groove in the wall behind Deius and Brath.

"What in Hades?"

Maspero smiled. "It's your job to find out. I can't go with you."

Anthem nervously peered into the darkness and looked back at Maspero.

"Don't worry. It's just one of the many secret passages built into the palace by the old emperors. We use some for storage for the Museum. Others...well, this is one of the others. Only the amulet can open and close this, and it's always under my lock and key."

"Very reassuring," quipped Anthem. "What was that about 'Sailing to Sarantium'?"

The Director of Antiquities smiled and pressed a hand on Anthem's back, urging him into the secret passage. Once Anthem was in, Maspero took the amulet out of its groove and the wall slid shut.

Alone in the darkness, Anthem groped at the walls. Then the floor shuddered and began to sink, causing Anthem to almost stumble. It was an elevator. An outstretched hand could feel the palace's stonework moving up as the elevator floor went down. Soon, the stonework became rough bedrock.

Soon, an archway with an iron gate appeared from beneath the descending floor. Anthem reached a finger to the rising gate and found that some type of thick clear plastic separated the gate from the elevator. Acrylic, likely. When the floor stopped moving, Anthem found himself staring at a black-shirted and black-helmeted Marine guard through the iron gate. He was standing in front of a heavy-looking solid metal door that looked like a hatch from a military ship. The Marine looked down at a clipboard and glanced back up at Anthem, obviously making sure of Anthem's photographic identification. He stepped forward, inserted a tiny key into a lock that held a small acrylic window-like slot closed at waist-height. He kept his fingers lightly touching his holstered gun. Unlocking it, the Marine opened the slot and pointed at a dark screen set at a sixty-degree slant in a console facing the gate. A small computer was set behind the dark screen.

"Sir, lay your hand on the ID scanner."

Anthem reached his right hand through the slot and laid it on the screen. The Marine pressed a button on a keyboard set behind the scanner. A hum sounded and a horizontal bar of red light slowly moved down and up the screen, scanning Anthem's handprint and fingerprints and making an almost inaudible clicking sound. A beep sounded and the bar of light vanished. The computer whirred as it processed many handprints for a match for several seconds. Another beep sounded. The Marine glanced down and grunted. He picked up a small microphone connected to the computer with a cord and held it up to the open slot.

"Clearly state your full name here, sir."

Anthem stared for a moment. He had never been subjected to such security before. This was a military base hidden right under the Grand Palace! "Is this a military base?"

The guard read him the textbook response, "I'm not authorized to discuss that." He glanced at the microphone pointedly. "State your full name, sir."

Anthem rolled his eyes. The frakkin' military, they could be frakkin' Cylons sometimes, he thought. He sighed and bent down forward. "Rhadamanthys Cyrus Ataiun, PhD."

The computer whirred and beeped as it found a match on file. The guarded nodded and produced a skeleton of keys. One key unlocked the iron gate. After the gate was opened, another key unlocked the acrylic panel, allowing Anthem to step down from the elevator platform. He looked up at the ceiling, noticing a surveillance camera for the first time.

"Welcome to the Sunken Palace."

"What?"

The guard smiled for the first time as he locked the panel and gate. Apparently, the clearance of his identity had relaxed the Marine somewhat. "It's under the Grand Palace. It was completely filled with water until we drained it. So...'Sunken Palace'."

Anthem started to say something else but the soldier turned to spin the wheel on the hatch and pulled it open. A hallway stretched beyond, stark and without any decoration, and carved right out of the bedrock. Atticus Rourke, the Marine captain who met Anthem in Delphi, had been waiting behind the hatch.

"I'm glad you could make it, Dr. Cyrus." After shaking Anthem's hand, he told him to follow him.

Behind them, the Marine guard pushed the hatch shut and wheel spun to its locked position. Anthem and Rourke continued down the hallway through the buzz of neon light-bulbs, past closed doors and around several corners, moving deeper into the underground maze.

"What was this place used for before it was flooded?" wondered Anthem aloud.

Captain Rourke's eyes glittered with humorous mischief. "That's classified information, sir."

Anthem didn't think the joke was funny.

The captain suddenly stopped and knocked on one of the doors. "Dr. Maxwell? Are you in there, sir?"

The door cracked open and out came the scowling of a middle-aged man with black hair. He squinted at Anthem before saying, "You must be the fresh meat." He came out into the hallway with a dyspeptic expression on his face. "It's Cyrus, isn't it? I'm Dr. Odin Maxwell, PhD, on loan from Caprica University."

His pompous manner made it easy to dislike Dr. Maxwell, and Anthem started getting the hang of it right away. He had heard of him, of course. Being a professor at a university like Caprica meant sitting on powerful advisory boards, having your articles published in the most respected journals, and enjoying all the benefits of being part of the academic establishment. This particular professor came from Caprica University's Department of Advanced Science and sat on the Magnate Prize board, and was well known as Dr. Gaius Baltar's mentor.

Anthem could care less about Maxwell. He pegged him as one of those elite ivory tower professors who hadn't done a stitch of original thinking in years nor had done much field work, if any. Besides, Anthem had won the Siltzer Prize for writing, which Dr. Maxwell didn't have. "What are you here for?"

"Ah!" twanged a woman's voice behind them before Maxwell could answer. "You're finally here! Let me tell you, the project--"

Rourke turned on his heels. "Dr. Carroll, until Dr. Cyrus gets his security classification, we are not--"

"Oh, shut up, you overgrown testicle," she snapped. "Go bore someone else, Captain." Her slight smile made it clear that she didn't really mean it. Coming out of her office on the other side of the hall, she looked middle-aged despite her completely silver hair which sharply contrasted with her dark dress-suit. She turned to Anthem. "The military drained and converted the Sunken Palace so these jarheads get to act like they own the place. Don't worry. We're the valuable ones here, brother."

Anthem smiled. He knew he liked this woman despite her severe-seeming demeanor.

"Anyway, I'm Dr. Rhea Carroll, the token astrophysicist from Aquaria University. You're single, right? How old are you?" Anthem didn't mind the questions. He knew that it was not uncommon for Aquarians to ask for age, name and marital status so that they could figure out how to address someone as their dialect carried formal and informal language. He answered them and they shook hands. Rhea then turned to Rourke. "Captain, let's show this man to his new office, and you be nice to him or you can forget about the soju I've brought from Galatea back on Aquaria. Even though Dr. Cyrus' techniques make him more like a looter than an archaeologist."

In spite of her venomous tone, it was clear she liked the soldier. She apparently followed the Aquarian culture of treating everyone in a facility or ship like family, with the most attention paid to elders. Anthem grinned. If she really brought soju, the famous Galatean liquor, he might like it here. Unless she started acting like one of the Gemon Matriarchs, a Gemenese sect which believed that women were more capable than men in various aspects of society.

The Marine captain, holding back a smile, turned and led the group down the hall to a door marked 42. He pushed the door open and said, "This is where you'll be working."

Anthem couldn't believe his eyes. The "office" was the size of a castle great room. The walls, over twenty feet high, were covered with large charcoal rubbings and photographic enlargements of squarish runes. On a long worktable, computer equipment was hooked up and online. Two smaller tables held various artifacts, and the bookshelf was stocked with every conceivable volume on the subject of the languages of Kobol and the Twelve Colonies, both existing and historical. There was even a coffee machine, a microwave and a small refrigerator. But it was the large artifact directly across from the worktable that caught and held Anthem's attention. It was almost as tall as him, and seemed to be three obelisks standing on a stone hemisphere and leaning on each other, covered with runes organized in vertical lines on the outside faces. A circle of runes ran around the edge of the hemispherical base.

He stood there, gaping at the ancient artifact. He recognized it.

"The Galleon Stone!" He looked back at Rhea and Odin. "What's it doing here? I just saw it in the Galleon Temple!"

Rhea said, "The one in the temple is a perfect replica. Perfect in every way on the outside." She looked severe and disapproving. "The religionists would throw a fit if they knew."

She stepped up to the Stone and gently touched the carved inscriptions with a finger. "As you can see, there are runes running down the three pylons. Dr. Maxwell has been helping us with the translation. So far we haven't been successful, though we found at least 25 distinct letters. It may be an extremely early form of Kobolian script, though it's not like anything else that the Exodus brought from the mother-world."

Anthem, with his archaeo-anthropological knowledge of languages agreed. The runes seemed to be squarish, blocky, and dominated by right angles. There was no analogue to Colonial and Kobolian languages, as far as he knew.

Then Dr. Maxwell started into a long-winded explanation of the various decoding programs he had written and used. Anthem's attention wandered over to the tables of artifacts as he listened with one ear, and interrupted, "Isn't that the Otori Treasure?"

"I beg your pardon!" huffed Maxwell, miffed at his lecture being interrupted.

"The Otori Treasure's supposed to be in the Delphi Museum!"

Rhea Carroll gazed at the jeweled sphere, puzzled. "That wasn't here before."

Rourke stood beside Rhea. "I had it brought for you, Dr. Cyrus. An identical replica is in place at the museum, down to the last ruby. Any idea what it is, Doctor?"

Anthem briefly wondered at the scope of this project and its apparent ability to swipe artifacts from temples and museums and replace them with copies with no one the wiser for it. He shrugged. "Nope. I tried to figure it out when I brought it to Delphi University. The only clue I had was from that man, Korben. 'Stars', he said. The most I could figure out is that the rubies seem to be arranged in constellations. But they are like no constellations ever seen in the Colonies. I even compared them with the zodiac." He shrugged again. "No dice."

"Ever tried looking inside?"

Anthem threw Rourke a look like the captain lost his mind. "Yes. X-rays, infrared scans, the works. We couldn't see inside. Probably because it uses some unknown type of Kobolian technology. All we know is that it's _old_. Only the Arrow of Apollo could match its age in the Delphi Museum."

Rhea said, "Perhaps you didn't try looking inside hard enough." She grabbed the sphere and raised it up high.

"What the frak!" Anthem realized what she was doing and lunged for Rhea. "STOP!"

She brought the caged sphere crashing down upon the table. The gold netting broke apart and the sphere shattered.

The jade sphere was actually merely a shell. A crystal shard was inside. Anthem picked it up wonderingly and studied it closely. It caught the light as he moved it in his fingers. The crystal looked like pink quartz but the planes inside were perfect as if the crystal had formed in space or underwater without the usual imperfections caused by outside pressures.

It was perfect, except for some indentations on one side of the crystal shard. Anthem looked at them closely and realized that they were runes. "Hey, this looks familiar."

Clutching the crystal in one hand, Anthem rushed over to the bookcase. Looking sideways at the titles embossed on the book spines, he found what he was looking for and pulled the book out. _Treasures of the Chandaran Tombs._

He flipped through the pages and stopped at a chapter, then turned the pages more slowly.

Anthem stopped, laid the book on the table and stepped aside to allow the other people in the room to see. One page showed a picture of a Chandaran papyrus scroll. One inscribed line held runes not unlike those on the Galleon Stone itself. A line of Chandaran script below translated the runes and the modern Federal Koine translation was in the caption below the picture.

Clava Thessara Infinitas. Key to Infinite Treasure.

Odin frowned as he grasped the lapels of his tweed jacket. "A key to treasure? The crystal is a key?"

Anthem elaborated, "A Chandaran legend had it that the key will allow he who possessed it entry to a vast storehouse of riches hidden away by the Lords of Kobol before they ceased walking among us. It was said that the goddesses Athena and Qetesh worked together to find it and failed." He shook his head in bemusement. "I know how illogical that sounds, but that's mythology for you."

"Qetesh? Who's that?" wondered Rhea aloud. "I've never heard that name."

"I'm not surprised. She was briefly worshipped in Chandara. She was the goddess of physical and platonic love, beauty, and diplomacy. Eventually, she got identified with Athena and her cult died out in the Third Kingdom of Chandara."

"Are you sure this is the right translation?" asked Maxwell. "Look here." He pointed at an infinity symbol drawn above the line of runes in the picture. "Can we trust it?"

Anthem rolled his eyes. "Expecting some ancient terrorists to pop out of the crystal?" He shook his head at the tendency of people to attach modern negative connotations to ancient symbols. He tapped the phrase on the crystal and in the book. His dark eyes shone with excitement. "The point is that I can use this to translate the runes on the Galleon Stone."

The group stared at Anthem, stunned by the revelation of a potential breakthrough.

"Now," Anthem wanted to maintain the momentum, "will somebody please tell me why the military has an astrophysicist working with an archaeologist and a robotechnologist in an underground base studying a bunch of artifacts that are over three thousand years old?"

"We're onto something much more interesting than a bunch of artifacts, Dr. Cyrus," Rhea Carroll began, but she was cut off by Atticus Rourke, who stepped between them.

"Excuse me, Dr. Carroll, but that information is classified. All information is now classified. Dr. Cyrus will work only with the information available in this room. From now on, all interdepartmental communications are to be relayed through Agent Christa Nolan who will be working closely with you and reporting to me."

Anthem was outraged. "What? Wait a minute, Captain. We're not antebellum Caprica sneaking behind Sagittaron's back! I need information for comparison and context!"

"I thought we'd have complete autonomy," put in Rhea.

He shrugged. "Plans change."

"Apparently," Rhea said patiently, fully in her role as a university department chair. "I'd appreciate some elaboration."

"The way I understand it, the folks at the Ministry feel things have gotten a little too loose around here."

"Captain Rourke"--Rhea's tone made it clear that she wasn't buying it--"It has to do with that crystal, doesn't it?"

Rourke said nothing.

Rhea nodded, taking that as confirmation. Anthem's face darkened at the implications and said, "Just answer me this: Why is the military here?"

"We're here in case you succeed."

**Two Weeks Later**

"Okay, this is what I have so far," said Anthem, using a capped pen as a pointer on the computer screen.

Rhea Carroll nodded her encouragement. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be here, but Anthem wasn't known for sticking to the rules. It took a lot of persuasion for her to come into his "office", though.

"The language is not like anything we have from Kobol although there are similarities. The phrase on the crystal wasn't enough. I had to use Tauronese, Old Gemenese and Old Aerian in addition to Kobolian to figure it out. For instance, the circle of runes at the Stone's base here: Nou ani Anquietas. Hic qua induco lacun lochus."

Rhea watched Anthem expectantly. He translated for her, "We are the Ancients. This leads to the lost place." He added apologetically, "'Lost' isn't the right word for lacun, but it's the closest I have."

"That's all right, Anthem. Who are the Ancients?"

Anthem shrugged. "Who knows? But the Stone's runes give more on these 'Anquietas'. The first pylon runes: Nos magisteri viae in valde zona astriae. Nos eo in Olympus uban traba tectum de nationis omnis. 'We are the teachers of roads in the great belt of stars. We travel in Olympus, uban traba, shield of all nations.'"

"'Uban traba'?"

"I'm having difficulties with that part. It either means 'ship', 'city', or both or something else entirely like 'high place'."

"Olympus? So these Ancients could be the Lords of Kobol? Isn't Olympus supposed to be a mountain? Uban traba must mean 'mountain'. Odd thing to say, to travel in Olympus, isn't it?" Rhea looked at Anthem skeptically. "Maybe there's a translation error somewhere."

Anthem frowned. He had spent the entire past two weeks on the translation. He didn't like the thought that there's a mistake somewhere, as it would mean he'd had to start all over again. Cack. Well, he brought Rhea in for a fresh outlook, didn't he? "That's partly why I'm having problems with 'uban traba'. Anyway, there's the runes on the other two pylons. The second goes like this: Calium videre eessit, et eraos ad sidera tollere vultus. 'When you see her, you see the sky and those on the ground must lift their faces to the stars.'"

Now Rhea was even more confused. "Did an Oracle write this?"

"Third pylon: Ex kobalos disce omnes et fugit ciruculum. 'From the source, all will learn and all must end.' Yeah, it does sound like an Oracle wrote all these."

Rhea grunted in agreement. "I'm sorry, I can't help you there. The only part that could barely make sense to me is 'great belt of stars'. That could mean the galaxy, a cluster of stars or the stars in Orion's belt." She shook her head. "I'm an astrophysicist, not an archaeologist or linguist." She stood up. "If there's nothing else, I have to go back to work. We wouldn't want Captain Rourke or Agent Nolan catch us conspiring, do we?"

"There's one more thing: Reperio clava. That's throwing me like Juno throwing a fit over Zeus' affairs. 'Reperio' has so many different meanings: invent, find, discover, learn, make or devise, get, ascertain or figure out."

His friend winced. "I don't envy you this job. 'Clava'...where have I heard that before?"

Anthem smiled. "That's from two weeks ago. It means 'key'."

Rhea stared at him. "You _are_ a dunce, you know that?"

"That's what I tell myself each time I wake up. But what makes you say that?"

The Aquarian astrophysicist rushed over to the table of artifacts and picked up the pink crystal that she broke out of the Otori Treasure. She held it toward Anthem who now felt like banging his head on a wall for his stupidity. He had been working for so long and hard on the translation that even his dreams repeated the work. He was so tired: except for stopping to sleep and eat, he worked non-stop. Still, he couldn't believe that he didn't make the connection! It was a good thing he decided to bring in Rhea.

He excitedly grabbed the crystal and turned to the Galleon Stone. He took a deep trembling breath. "I feel like I'm in the Night Flight with Kara Nixal, about to become the first person in space since the fall of Poseidos."

He inserted the crystal shard into a tiny opening near the top of the third pylon of the Galleon Stone. Nothing happened.

Disappointment instantly set in. The Stone's three obelisk-shaped pylons then opened up like a flower blooming.

Anthem jumped back, startled. It was so silent! "Well, I'll be damned. It works!"

The pylons continued opening up until they were nearly horizontal. A white crystal triangular pyramid the size of a large human head was revealed. It glowed softly like a moon and bloomed open, revealing a spherical stone, similar to the Otori Treasure's sphere in size. The ball lifted into the air, surprising Anthem and Rhea.

That spoke of a synthetic gravity control much finer and more advanced than the Colonials had in their spacecraft.

The ball glowed a soft white and then blue dashed lines appeared in the air, filling the space between and above the open pylons, arranged in horizontal and vertical circles so that they created a sphere that reminded Anthem of sextants. Holographic technology!

The glowing ball became the glowing core of a galaxy. Several sectors of the galaxy glowed brighter and expanded as the galaxy faded away. The sectors became individual stars. Three stars to a side glowed brighter than the others and were encircled by a circular line of very tiny runes. At some distance away, six recognizable constellations glowed just as bright. Red areas defined within each constellation blinked on and off, rearranging themselves as if there was a computer figuring it out inside the Stone. The constellations' stars moved into the current positions and the blinking red areas became definite shapes glowing a continuous green and a white dot appeared in the center of each of the six green areas. A thin blue solid line drew themselves from the white dots and meet each other. Then a thick blue dashed line made its way from the three encircled stars until it ended at the intersection of the thin blue lines. A star appeared at that point and glowed a bright gold. The green areas faded away and the constellations faded into the normal starry background. A new circle of tiny runes appeared around the new central star.

Rhea whispered in awe, "If I'm reading this right, it's far beyond the Prolmar Sector, which is the farthest we've explored. The Prolmar Sector is 30 light-years from the Cyrannus Sector."

The newly indicated star expanded, causing other stars to fade away until it stood alone in holographic emptiness. The thick blue dashed line was still there but it now seemed to appear out of nowhere and speared into the star. Anthem was able to read the runes around the star without squinting or needing a magnifying glass.

Phaos sau Kobalos. Phos, Sun of the Source.

Kobalos.

Kobol.

"Eureka," whispered Anthem, eyes wide open in amazement.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Picon,**

**Headquarters, Colonial Fleet**

It was a beautiful day for things to come crashing down. At least that's what the man in the dark blue uniform told himself as he strode to his rendezvous. His gait did not reveal such a sentiment at least outwardly, as it was the same straight and disciplined manner in which he'd always carried himself, most especially when wearing the uniform. He'd learned it at the Academy, under the barking tutelage of a Marine who had the same gait and presence to go with the uniform. That uniform had been a constant in his life for over 35 years and he wasn't going to change his manners now, at the apparent end. No, whatever internal anger or regret he might carry wasn't going to show itself publicly, especially here, in the nexus of everything he stood for.

It was a beautiful day, with the sun allowed unfettered brilliance due to a conspicuous lack of clouds in the Picon sky. The temperature was just as perfect with a calm and light breeze coming from the west. The man could hear a dull roar in the distance as Viper fighters and Raptor transports took off from the nearby field, their growl a continuous soundtrack of his life the past few decades. Their echo in the air was as natural to him as anything else nature might put out. The man in the dark blue uniform walked along the paved path, surrounded by lush green lawns and exquisitely maintained flower beds. Their beauty was in stark opposition to the amount of death that the occupiers of this ground could dish out on any given day. The effect of all the beauty was to throw him off slightly, as he knew his day was only going to end badly.

The headquarters of the Colonial Fleet was a sight to see for anyone, even those who had been there on innumerable occasions. A large cluster of classically designed buildings, it bore a stronger resemblance to an institution of higher learning than a military facility, with columns, windows and graceful arches everywhere accented by well-maintained lawns and courts. Sunlight had a way of shining through the courtyards, gables and arches to create a warm light that accentuated the classical beauty of the campus. The large buildings at its center were arranged around a manicured central courtyard that the man in question now found himself walking through. Together, the entire campus radiated a calm and professional air of confidence as befitted the most powerful military in the known universe (_the known universe being themselves and their bastard off-spring, the Cylons_).

From this rather benign looking location went forth the massive bureaucratic effort that ran the Fleet, a true monster of an entity branching out in multiple directions like a hydra. Instead of guns and missiles, this base's armaments were paperwork, coded messages and inspectors, any of which could move mountains or crush careers with either arthritic speed or lightning intensity depending on the political will or the potentially bad publicity. The true political power in the military hierarchy may have been situated at the Colonial Ministry of Defense on Caprica, lording over everything like an occasionally cranky god, but the day-to-day power rested here, among the uniformed bureaucracy who made sure the minute details were taken care of. The political masters on Caprica loved to leave those things to the uniformed side of the equation, that way credit could be taken or blame assessed with as little harm to them as possible.

Men and woman in uniform passed around him as they went about their own business with varying degrees of commitment. Shore duty, especially in such a location, was considered by most to be a pretty good thing. He'd hated his time here, chained first to a desk in the Plans and Programs Directorate like some zoo animal before a savior of a transfer moved him to the Operations Staff. The tour had been necessary, an absolute requirement for further advancement in the fleet, not that it made it an easier to swallow. He'd done it, performed his service before getting out at the earliest possible time with his sanity intact and his soul not bartered.

The same couldn't be said of all. The officers he'd shared staff duty with in those days could be broken down into two categories. The first group was like him, men and woman who preferred to be somewhere else, mainly in a cockpit or on the deck of a ship. Like him, they were there to "punch their ticket" as the saying went, doing what they had to do, like a guilty man going to one of the priests to get a weight off their shoulders. They did their best, showed up and gave their best effort and went home at night counting the days until a transfer came. They were not lazy or unmotivated but just uninterested in the political and social machinations of duty at a higher headquarters. It had to be done, so they did it. End of story.

The second group might as well have been an entirely different species as far as he was concerned. They were the Careerists. An assignment to Fleet Headquarters was a BIG DEAL. It was the stepping stone to greatness and whoa the poor man who got in their way. These people were no different than others in similar fields. The titans of industry and so on. They were going places, knew it and everyone should take a wide berth. The ultimate goal in life was to be an admiral and they were going to get there as far as they were concerned. They'd poach plum assignments, kiss extraordinary amounts of ass and talk down their competitors to anyone in ear shot. Every move was calculated for its possible career benefits and if it was found wanting, jettisoned immediately. Sadly, these tactics usually succeeded in getting the individual up the ranks.

Yes, the man in the dark blue uniform had seen both types, worked with them and survived it. But that wasn't really what was on his mind on this day. No, the culture of the Colonial Fleet's promotional system was not on his mind in the least. He had bigger issues to deal with. As he approached the massive edifice that was Fleet Headquarters he wondered how it all came to this moment. Nearly 40 years in uniform had brought him to this place and time and he could see no way out of the situation. It was over.

His name was Commander William "Bill" Adama. And this was the day his career ended.

It hadn't been put to him that way when the call came. No, the call had been polite and extremely business-like, just the way the fleet always did things. Simple and direct. Adama could live with that. _Please report to Admiral Nagala's office at 1100 tomorrow._

He actually appreciated the gesture as he'd been expecting some staff lackey to visit him on his ship, meet with him in his cabin and "politely" suggest that putting in his retirement papers would be best. After all, he was commanding a ship destined to be a museum. There was no moving on from that. That would have been the administrative version of an underworld hit. If he was going to get the push, at least it would be by the top man himself, not some designated career assassin. It comforted him in a strange way, which should be surprising considering it was his career being sunk.

It was a career that had cost him more than some sleepy nights or a bad assignment. The toll was a lot deeper and more personal. A divorce. One son dead, the other with no interest in a relationship. Yes, the chits had come in on Bill Adama's career and it was costly. He'd upheld his standards, Lords knew that, and wouldn't apologize for it, but it still cost him. And worst of all, he knew it and had to live with it.

He at least didn't need to question why he was at this point. That was all too obvious and had been hashed over time and again. It wasn't in his nature to stew for long periods over decisions made and actions taken, but Gods, did he wish it hadn't been him called upon to take that recon mission four years earlier. He'd never been enthusiastic about sending Novacek over the Armistice Line, as if looking for a fight. But he trusted in their decision making, just as he had for all these years prior, hoping that it would work out for the best. A quick recon over the line to check on the Cylons they said, as if that's all it would ever be. Now a good man was dead at his hand, a potential flair-up with the Cylons had occurred and he was the man in charge at the time. He's taken his lumps, been transferred to his current command and watched as he spent two years in career purgatory with plenty of time to stew on the "mistake".

With this as the backdrop he found himself walking up a large collection of marble steps to the entrance of the building housing the Fleet Commander. The two Colonial Marines standing at attention in dress uniform saluted crisply and opened the double doors with a robotic grace to make the Cylons proud. _Who says we're not alike _Adama joked to himself as he returned their salutes. He stalked through the building's foyer and grabbed the first available elevator to take him to Nagala's office and one step closer to retirement. He was trying his best to avoid being noticed, not out of any embarrassment but out of a lack of desire to explain his presence, here, in the House of The Holies as it was jokingly called. The ride itself was quiet as the others onboard kept to themselves as if they knew Adama, why he was there and didn't want any of the bad luck to rub off on them.

As the door opened to the 10th floor, Adama entered into the wood-paneled and finely furnished lair of the Commander of the Colonial Fleet, Admiral Oscar Nagala. Nagala's office had its own version of a guard dog in the form of a raven-haired female Petty Officer who served as the receptionist/gatekeeper. Adama strode up to her desk and stood before it almost like a student before the principal.

"Commander Adama to see Admiral Nagala. I'm expected."

The Petty Officer, wearing glasses that gave her a distinctly bookish and severe look, just nodded. "Of course sir, please have a seat and I'll let the Admiral know you're here." With that she waved to some seats near the wall.

As Adama took a seat he saw a copy of the latest _Colonial Science_, a magazine for the scientific community and those who wished they were that smart, lying on a table. Their latest cover boy was none other than Doctor Gaius Baltar, the extremely suave and intelligent researcher who been clamoring for more artificial intelligence research in recent months, his biggest argument being that the Cylons were long gone and the Colonials were holding themselves back. Adama was too old and too busy to give a frak, thank you very much. He remembered how it went last time they'd played with those things and it hadn't gone well. He moved his attention to the walls, covered in photographs of ships, planes and people. One big happy fleet doing their duty to the Colonies and her people.

He didn't get much time to think on it. "Commander, the Admiral will see you now."

With that, Adama stood and walked through the wooden door and into the bright and uniquely massive office, easily the largest he'd ever seen in person. A large conference table with its chairs sat to the left while the admiral's desk and some chairs were at the far end of the room. He looked over to see Nagala rise from behind his desk.

"Bill, come in. You're looking good." A wide smile emanated from Nagala's face.

The smile and warm greeting weren't staged, that much Adama knew. Bill Adama and Oscar Nagala went back a long time, to the Cylon War. Nagala had been an outstanding and first-rate Viper jock who'd made a name for himself flying off the first Battlestar _Columbia_. Their paths had crossed over the years at schools and conferences, though they'd never served together in the same command. Possessor of a keen intellect as well as good political skills, he'd ridden hard through the service and came out as a rare commodity, respected by both officers and ratings. He was legendary at keeping the political hacks of Caprica from doing anything too disastrous to the fleet and in maintaining the good graces of the press and public. He was known to be fighting plans to cut some ships and doing it in his usually quiet and successful manner.

"Thank you sir. It's good to see you again."

"Bill, you've met General Barger?"

Adam turned to find himself facing a surprise visitor to his world, General Hane Barger, Commanding General of the Colonial Marine Corps. Barger was the epitome, at least in looks, of a Colonial Marine. Tall, thin and steel jawed, he was known as one tough individual and a land-fighting genius who hated the Cylons with an almost religious passion. It was also rumored that he'd had his sense of humor removed surgically. Only a few were saying it in jest.

"No sir, we haven't. An honor sir." Adama shook the general's hand as Barger simply squinted at him darkly.

"Commander."

"You know Admiral Layton." Now Adama's suspicions kicked into full overdrive. Admiral Eric Layton served as the Fleet's Chief of Operations. Suave, well-spoken and highly regarded, he was the power behind the throne as the saying went. Nothing happened, at least on a significant scale, without his approval or knowledge. Adama had been in the service long enough to detect a trap and apparently he'd walked right into one of some sort. There was no way all this high-ranking importance would show up to tell him of his impending retirement.

"Let's grab a seat. We've got some things to discuss."

Nagala pointed the group towards his large wooden conference table where each grabbed a seat, Nagala taking the chair at the head. Adama's curiosity, normally a finely tuned thing, was on overdrive. It was obvious that this wasn't to be a normal conversation in any way, though the abruptness of it had caught him off guard.

"How's the _Galactica_ Bill?"

"The ship is in good shape, the crew is up-to-date on training and materially, we're good. As I'm sure you know, we're scheduled to go to the yard in two months to start the museum conversion."

Nagala just shook his head. "Not any more Bill; that's being put on hold indefinitely. Something has come up and she'll be needed in service."

Adama just stared at Nagala momentarily, the words lost. The _Galactica_'s decommissioning had been in the works for over a year; it was the main reason why he'd been given the assignment, as a retirement kiss-off. Now, added to the circumstances of this meeting, he was totally confused. He fought the unlikely urge to look around for some sort of hidden camera, as if this was part of some elaborate scheme or joke.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I'm at a loss. The _Galactica_ isn't being retired?"

"No it's not Bill. Something rather…unique has come up and well, we need the Old Girl out there."

"Cylons?"

"Dear Gods no, but I'll let Admiral Layton explain it to you. Eric?"

The one defining trait that Adama had noticed of all three men since walking into the room was how uncomfortable they seemed with the meeting itself, like parents having to break news of the impending divorce to the kids. Adama imagined they would have wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. Admiral Layton was no different; he carried a pinched look and General Barger looked positively miserable, although Adama had heard before that that was his normal look.

"Commander, as the Admiral said, we have a unique situation and we think the _Galactica_ is suited to take it on. First though, I must point out that what we're about to discuss is of the most classified nature and isn't authorized for release yet. Let me ask you Commander; how religious are you?"

Adama unknowingly arched his eyebrows and stared at Layton. "Sir? How religious am I?"

"Yes, a simple question."

"I was raised to believe, but I'll be the first to admit I'm not as religious as some others. I guess you could say I'm rationally skeptic."

"Completely understandable; I'm probably in your category. The reason we're asking you this type of question is that the mission we have in mind for you and the _Galactica_ has certain religious and, well, political overtones that need to be carefully handled. I won't lie. This would be one of the most peculiar undertakings in the history of the fleet."

"I see."

"Recently, the Scholars of the Sacred Scrolls on Caprica have been devoting enormous amounts of time and energy into researching the early history of our people using ancient texts as well as archeological expeditions. At least, that's what I'm told. This research had been going on for many years but has been given renewed emphasis. They're reemphasizing the faith with the population at large; part of some campaign I think. There have been grants of government money and resources as well; they apparently have good lobbyists.

"Normally, this sort of thing would be interesting, but of little consequence to the military. The religious authorities fulfill their role just as we do ours; however we've now come to a point where their research has dragged us in. Specifically, the Scholars have devoted a large amount of research into discovering the true location of Kobol. And, shockingly enough, they appear to have succeeded."

It was Bill Adama's good fortune that no one was present in the room with a camera or recording device for posterity, as the look of his jaw hanging open certainly looked ridiculous. Kobol. Every school child knew the story. The legendary first home of the Thirteen Tribes, twelve of whom would go on to form the Twelve Colonies. The thirteenth heading to a mythical world called Earth. If you believed in the ancient story, which Bill Adama really didn't. Adama took a moment to play catch-up in his mind. His first inclination was to say _Frak You_, but he bit his lip well.

"The priests on Caprica believe they know where Kobol is? Am I to believe they want us to go find it for them, using their information?" _Is this a frakking joke?_

"That would be the idea. There are risks. The supposed location is far beyond Colonial space in an area of the universe that we haven't explored. We know there are some unique astronomical anomalies out there but not much else. Fleet Astronomical is putting all their information together now, but it's scant."

"I have to ask sir. The President and the Ministry went for this idea. I'd never think they want to take such a gamble."

Layton looked over at Admiral Nagala as General Barger merely adjusted in his seat. Nagala picked up the conversation.

"This is where the political calculations come in Bill. I'll be somewhat blunt with you about it. President Adar, whatever you think of our Commander-in-Chief, was elected with the help and the votes of the conservatives on Gemenon and Sagitaria. He desperately wants to keep them in his corner and appeasing the religious crowd is a great way to do that. They'll eat this up when it goes public, think about it. You can hear it now: Adar sends the fleet to the unknown and discovers the wonders of our faith. Things aren't exactly going his way right now. The economy is still struggling, even after that last recovery bill, for which he used a lot of political capital to get passed. I hear they'll announce the jobless figures tomorrow and they're supposedly not good. You've probably seen it on the television or heard it on the wireless. He's got the Quorum breathing down his neck and it hasn't gotten better.

"We're fighting like hell to keep the latest batch of _Mercury_'s on track. His budget people are giving me fits about the costs as well as the tech upgrades. I won't lie Bill, things are a little dicey on that front and we've got to keep the civilian authority on our side. If that means sending some ships out on an exploration mission, so be it. And to be honest, there's more."

Adama actually chuckled, almost in spite of himself. He felt apprehension taking over. "How much more can there be? What you've said so far is enough."

Nagala's face darkened considerably. "The other side of this equation is a lot more troubling and much more classified, Bill. Recent studies have shown that we're facing major tylium supply issues. Exploration in known regions has been very disappointing to say the least and it's not looking very good. The best estimates of the Ministry of Energy put our usable resources at no more than 10-12 years. Less if we go to a war footing."

Tylium was everything. No tylium, no space flight. The Colonies would grind to a halt and chaos would ensue. Then there was the old specter of the Cylons, somewhere in the universe like an old family ghost waiting to appear. This was the nightmare of all nightmares and Adama didn't know where to start.

"This information is classified at the highest levels. Only a select few in the government and private industry know of our difficulties in procuring new sources and for now it will stay that way. We've had the cooperation of the major producers only because they're scared to death of watching the value of their respective companies plummet. This type of information could cause a panic, one that we may not be able to control.

"Luckily, we do have some breathing room but we need to start finding some new sources soon or the trouble will start. We can only keep a lid on this for so long. Someone will talk; they always do."

Adama looked around the room at the assembled brass as his head spun in new directions not explored before. In the span of no more than ten minutes, he'd been made privy to secrets like the likes of which he'd never dreamed of. The next and most obvious question ripped through his mind with requisite intensity. He put aside the stunning revelations of religion and energy production to go to it.

"Gentleman, putting all these things aside, I must ask. Why are you telling me all this?"

"Commander, we want you to lead this mission. Your orders would be to take the _Galactica_, another Battlestar and a small task force of ships into unexplored territory, using the stellar coordinates provided by the Scholars. Once there, you will attempt to discover Kobol, make a landing upon it and provide security for the professional scholars to research and excavate anything of historical or religious significance. You would also assess the planet's potential for colonization or as an outpost for the military and the scientific community.

"Your second objective will be to launch scouting missions into these areas for potential sources of tylium, whether planetary or among other stellar bodies. Off the record, I consider this the more important of your two missions. The tylium is a matter of the highest urgency, our national survival in the long-term is at stake."

"Sir, may I speak plainly?"

"Of course Bill. I'm throwing a lot at you."

"Why me? Let's be honest sir. After the Novacek incident, I've been dead man walking. I thought I was coming here to be informed of my imminent retirement."

Barger just grunted, earning a look from Nagala. "There were those that wanted that Bill, you're right. But I've known you long enough to know you're one of the best I've ever seen at getting people to do some crazy things, and Gods know, this is among the craziest. Plus, you've always known how to handle yourself in iffy situations and I think this qualifies. Secondly, I'm sorry to say, you and the _Galactica_ are expendable. I can't risk sending a couple of _Mercury_'s off on this religious expedition of dubious political origins."

Adama didn't miss a beat. He was used to the expendable label. "I can live with that. You said a task force; what are you putting together?"

"Do you know Jurgen Belzen?"

"Helena Cain's exec? Only by reputation; I've heard good things."

"It's all true; he's an up and comer who's just gotten his first command and needs some seasoning. I think learning from you would be a boost; he just took over a _Valkryie_, the _Perseus_."

"I'll take him, who else?"

Nagala nodded to Barger. Barger's gravel voice sounded like a god on high issuing commands. "You'll be taking a Marinestar, the _Heroic_, with a full MSF." A Marinestar was a stripped-down version of a Battlestar holding a full complement of Marine-piloted Vipers and Raptors and a large Marine ground force, in this case an MSF, or Marine Strike Force. An MSF was an all-encompassing force of over 2500 Marines with their own engineers and even had a company of armored cars. It was quite a force, especially for a 'religious expedition of dubious political origins'. The fleet was full of jokes about the Marines and service aboard Marinestars, most of it crass, dirty and involving farm animals.

Barger continued, "The MSF will be at your direct command, its main mission will be in the unlikely event you discover Kobol, to secure the planet and provide security for your civilian scientists and religious authorities." His tone belied what he thought of the entire situation. "Commander Nat Dollan will command the _Heroic_, while you'll have the Fifth MSF under Colonel Lionel Carthan." Adama had heard of both men, but hadn't worked with them.

"Let me be blunt with you Commander, I don't like this mission in the least bit. I've got 15 Marinestars at my disposal and I hate sending one out there like this. Now, could this be an excellent training opportunity? Sure. I expect you to use your head. The Admiral says you're known for that. Do not get my Marines into any wrecks of your own creation."

Nagala noticeably exhaled and picked up the conversation. "In addition, you'll take two cruisers, four destroyers, five supply vessels and some civilian ships. One will be a tylium survey vessel and another will carry the scientific and religious research parties. The Ministry of Science is throwing some heavy hitters on this expedition I'm told. Rumor has it they're trying to recruit Baltar for it as well. You'll need the MSF just to protect people from his ego." The assembled group chuckled; Baltar's ego was legendary, even to the general public.

It was emblematic of how surreal the conversation had become to Adama that the next question out of his mouth seemed perfectly reasonable in light of what was be discussed.

"Sir, if we do manage to find Kobol and land upon it, what are our instructions should we…I can't believe I'm asking this. If we come across alien life?"

The room was deathly silent and Adama feared he'd be openly mocked. It was a matter of fact in the Colonies that they were alone in the universe, except of course for the Cylons, but in light of the conversation and its topic, Adama wasn't leaving anything to chance. If they were going to ask him to go light-years into unknown space, then in his mind, they should be prepared to give him clear instructions in dealing with the unknown. It was as simple to him as that.

The sad fact was that the Colonial Ministry of Defense had plans, programs and studies for almost every conceivable event, except one. Natural disaster? Covered. Insurrection? Got it. First Contact? Though shall not be named. No one dared mention it or bring it up at planning conferences for fear of suicide, at least the career version. It was the weight on planner's shoulders, the unknown fear that everyone nervously laughed off publically while privately sweating. Well, if they were going to ask him to jump off the cliff, he was Godsdamn going to do it with both feet.

"It's alright Bill. Considering what we're discussing, it only makes sense. You are to use your best judgment in regards to whatever you come across, including contact with unknown life. You're not a 'shoot first' guy and that's one of the reasons I want you on this mission. The last thing the Colonies need is a confrontation or hostilities with the unknown, no matter how unlikely that sort of thing is."

"I see. And if I run across the Cylons?"

"Get out of there as fast as you can. We can't afford to get into something with them or provoke a confrontation. They've been gone for almost 40 years and I'd like to keep it that way. Defend yourself if attacked but, please, I beg you; don't go looking for a fight. I know you Bill and I don't think I need to worry about that."

Admiral Layton spoke up again. "One other thing Commander, I'm having orders cut for your son to be transferred to _Galactica_. They should go through by the end of the week."

"That really is not necessary sir. Lee is doing fine in his current assignment." _Not that I'd know…_

"Actually, it is. The press will love that part of it. A nice family angle and it gives you another experienced Viper jock in your squadrons."

Adama's visage was stone cold. "Yes sir."

"Any other questions Commander?"

"Yes, when do we leave?"

"No rush; in about three weeks."

Adama was getting _really_ tired of surprises.

**Stargate Command**

**Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station, Colorado**

Far away on another world, so different yet eerily familiar, another man in a blue uniform was just getting up to speed on the full extent of his day, stocked as it was with the usual array of meetings, briefings, phone calls and above all else, reading. The sheer amount of reading required every day and night in his job stunned him to no end. Briefing papers, technical specs, intelligence estimates, field reports, threat assessments and higher-headquarters directives threatened to both eat all his valuable time and cause some sort of eye injury. Luckily, like similar men of responsibility and duty, he had aides to filter through the avalanche and read the lesser items. They would read the more involved items and draft reports for his quick overview. The man thanked God for executive summaries, for without them his life would really be laborious. That thought, and a quick smirk, crossed his face as he read a small item about more scientific testing and its encouraging results. It was another day at the office, even if that office was atypical.

Major General Hank Landry, United States Air Force, reached out absentmindedly for his favorite coffee mug, the one emblazoned with the crest of his former command, the 366th Fighter Wing at Mountain Home Air Force Base in Idaho. He'd had a lot of fun, as well as sleepless nights, with that command. They'd gone to war, taking their F-15E Strike Eagles to Afghanistan for the War on Terror. His men and woman put a lot of laser-guided munitions on target supporting ground troops in Operation Enduring Freedom and had been proud to do so. He thought it would be the culmination of a long and dedicated career, some thought _too_ dedicated, and that he'd go to retirement content. He didn't need his third or fourth star to know he'd done the job and done it well. There was fly-fishing waiting and he'd get there.

That was until an old friend had called him, offering what he simply called a "job". He had no idea why he'd been considered or chosen for it. And he would argue with anyone who called his current position something as pedestrian as a "job". This wasn't a job; it was a life, with all the demands that came with it. Long hours, strong personalities and "unique" situations ensured it was much more. Grabbing his coffee, he practically shook his head at the thought as he took a long sip.

His official title was Commander, Stargate Command. In reality his title should have been Jack of all Trades. He acted as combatant commander for some of Earth's most highly trained soldiers, part-time diplomat to visiting dignitaries, mayor to an ever-growing operation and problem solver for anything that came his way. And a lot came his way with short notice.

Stargate Command, or as the privileged insiders simply referred to it, the SGC, was becoming a monster of administrative and operational complexity. The focus of enormous attention from political leadership, for obvious reasons, the SGC had become the much classified battleground of international relations, as world powers jockeyed to control the bounty of knowledge, technology and trade that it had and could produce, sometimes with little warning as to the consequences. None of the countries that were party to the agreements forming the IOA wanted to see any one country, but most especially the United States, dominate the race for that technology and knowledge. This competition served as the backdrop to any typical day Landry experienced at the SGC, not that 'typical' did it justice.

His attention was suddenly jerked to the ringing phone behind his large and impressive desk. It wasn't his normal in-house phone but his STE, or Secure Terminal Equipment. The STE, developed by the National Security Agency at Fort Meade, Maryland, was the successor to the STU-III family of secure telephone units. It allowed for callers to discuss classified material over land-line connections without fear of tapping or espionage. If his STE was ringing, it meant one thing. Business. Most likely his old friend.

"General Landry."

"_Stop trying to sound so official. I gave up after a couple of days."_

"Jack. How are you? You could never do official if you tried."

Major General Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill, USAF, Special Advisor to the Secretary of Defense and unofficial head of the unofficial office known as Homeworld Security, could only laugh at the truth, but he had to defend himself.

"_You'd be surprised how 'official' you can get when the President and SECDEF are staring you in the face waiting for an answer. But I still do the 'mystified look' pretty well."_

"I can only imagine. What's up today?"

"_Let's go secure."_

"Gotcha."

With that both men inserted their individual crypto cards into their telephones and waited for the tell-tale buzzing sound, indicating that the line was now secure and they were free to discuss classified information.

"_You'll love this. The Chinese are coming; tell the mess hall to break out the chow mien."_

"So it's really going to happen? I thought they'd chicken out."

"_Nope, they informed Admiral Barker's staff last night. Ten 'observers' will be arriving at your doorstep in the next month."_ Admiral Richard Barker was the commander of United States Pacific Command, with responsibility for all US military forces in the Asia-Pacific region. He was the point man for military dealings with China, which certainly wasn't the easiest job on Earth.

"Well, it had to happen someday, and if we waited for them to become a happy little democracy, we'd all die of old age."

With the somewhat 'internationalization' of the SGC and the creation of the International Oversight Advisory or IOA, Stargate Command and its facilities had started to resemble a UN mission. With Australian commandos, French intelligence officers and Canadian staff members, the SGC was a long way from the early days of a few Airmen and Marines on their own. Although still heavily staffed and financed by the American military, the international flavor was both useful and above all else, politically necessary. China, 1.5 billion strong and only getting richer, had been demanding a place at the table and was now about to get it.

"_We'll see. My guys will forward you more information as we get it. I go up to the Hill today for the next round of 'Save the Navy'."_

"Better you than me Jack. That's a shark tank; no pun intended. How's it going?"

"_The Navy is fighting hard and I can understand it. They're afraid they'll be rendered useless, like a modern day horse and buggy. And they've got a lot of friends up here. More than we do."_

The current battle within the insular world of the SGC and America's budding interstellar capability was over who would control the growing fleet of ships, mainly BC-304's, currently under development. Like all fights over resources and futures, it was getting ugly, with each side using all its arguments and assets to win. Lost in the fog was the fact that each side had good points in its favor. The Air Force had worked hard to develop the technology and cultivate the allies, like the Asgard, to make it all possible. They also pointed to the fact that in US defense policy they'd been given jurisdiction over space operations.

The Navy on the other hand liked to argue that since it was a _fleet_ in the classic sense, they were best suited to handling the mission and developing the weapons and tactics. They had the technical schools and programs designed to teach personnel how to operate ships as well as over two hundred years of ship-based tactics and doctrine. Whether those assets could be transferred to space was a matter of debate at the highest levels. Soon, a decision would have to be made and it would anger someone. Landry had been asked for his input, given it and was now looking for cover before the bullets flew.

"I think, based on what I'm hearing it could go either way. I have a feeling they'll go for the Navy though. Traditions have a way of doing that."

"_We'll see. What's the latest on your end? The universe still in one piece?"_

"I just had my morning intel brief a little while ago. Yeah, things are in one piece so far. My guys at the embassy on Dakara forwarded some interesting stuff yesterday from the latest Jaffa rumor mill. You'll have it later today and I know CIA forwarded some of it to the NSC and Glyndon's people sent a brief to the Joint Staff."

"_Oh? Please don't tell me somebody there is getting antsy again. They get bored and whole planets get knocked over."_

"No, nothing like that. Teal'c and Bra'tac have been spending a lot time cultivating their interests, which just happen to be ours. We're hearing talk of a renewed crackdown on the LA."

The 'LA' in question was the Lucian Alliance, an ad hoc coalition of criminals, smugglers, pirates and other low-life's who banded together following the demise of the System Lords and the resulting power vacuum. The Alliance was responsible for a significant numbers of crimes including drugs, piracy and smuggling. The SGC had had confrontations with LA members including shootouts involving US Special Forces teams, all going badly from the LA's perspective. The IOA had been attempting, with limited success, to rally some of the regional powers to confront the LA.

"_We've heard this stuff before Hank. Last time I was there the High Council was saying all the right stuff yet the LA is still operating from some of their territory. If they want to get serious, great. But the proof is in the pudding."_

"We'll see. They've got a delegation coming in a few days to meet about Disclosure and some economic ties. They're also going to DC and New York with a stop at Fort Bragg to visit our Delta friends. We're going to hit them again on it, and the ambassador is still bringing it up."

"_Pardon me as I don't hold my breath. What do you have going today?"_

"I'm meeting with Carter and some of the science guys in about five minutes. Apparently there's a planet they really want to check out that's off the beaten path. Supposedly its address came out of your head the last time you felt the need to download Ancient like a human iPod."

"_Joke all you want buddy, but that sucked. I was chewing Advil like M&M's for a week."_

"That's the price for greatness…hold one Jack. What's up Chris?"

Landry's aide, Air Force Captain Chris Hill, had poked his head in the door.

"Sorry sir. Just wanted to remind you that you're meeting with Colonel Carter and her people in five minutes."

"Got it. Thanks Chris."

"No problem sir."

"I gotta run Jack."

"_Good luck Hank. Watch out for the science folks; Carter and the others will have you going all Star Trek at any moments. You know; 'new worlds and civilizations'". _

"See ya Jack."

"_See ya."_

With that, Landry closed the connection and hung up the phone. In his heart he knew that O'Neill was right. The sheer amount of new science that hit him every day was staggering in its own right. What do you say to a scientist who believes, _passionately_, that the next great discovery was around the corner only if he'd allocate some of his scant resources? Could it save lives or take from a project that would? Landry was trying to thread that needle on a weekly basis and was finding that it didn't get any easier. There were days he really missed his fighter wing. Luckily he had a lot of talented advisors and admittedly, it wasn't entirely his decision anymore. There were many with their horse in this race and they weren't all military. No, the day of the civilian scientist with political clout had arrived.

While the US military still ran the day-to-day operations of the SGC, things had changed somewhat and Landry didn't have the God-like powers that George Hammond had once enjoyed. Now an IOA-appointed scientific review panel made decisions on which areas of research to support, though Landry could still green light any mission he wanted. It was a never ending struggle to see who would win out.

Landry grabbed his prized coffee mug, stopping at his personal pot for a refill before heading for the exit. He'd gotten much better at handling it, the political aspects of his job, especially the scientists. Upon his arrival, they'd expected to bully him in a way that they couldn't with his predecessors, George Hammond and Jack O'Neill. They thought he'd be a shallow and pre-occupied man with a certain agenda. That had lasted all of about a week as they discovered he knew more than the inner workings of a fighter plane. The fact was that he loved science and all its variables and rules. And above all, he was a listener, especially to those who he could tell weren't trying to blow smoke up his ass. One of those he listened to with vigor was none other than Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, who along with Daniel Jackson was dean of the SGC's scientific talent.

"Good morning sir."

"Morning Colonel. Is this your briefing today?"

"No sir. Daniel and the archeological staff will be doing that. I've reviewed his findings though."

"And?"

"I believe he makes a compelling case sir, but I don't want to sell it to you. I'll let you judge for yourself."

"Fine." One of the things Landry really liked about the young colonel was the fact that she rarely, if ever, tried to force-feed people her opinions or thinking, in spite of her mammoth intellect and incredible accomplishments. Oh, she could stand up and be heard when necessary, but she wouldn't bully. "I just got off the phone with Jack."

"How's the General?"

"There'll be chow mien on the menu." He smirked at Carter's confused look. "I'll explain later."

"Yes sir."

Landry and Carter entered the conference room to find it already full with about a dozen civilian and military staffers awaiting their arrival. An officer called the room to attention and Landry waved the military officers back down into their seats.

"As you were. Good morning folks. I'm told you've got a project idea to throw out. Who's going to do the brief?"

Daniel's head popped up from a pile of briefing materials. "I'll be doing that General. Could you please pass these around?" Daniel fumbled with the large pile, handing it to an Air Force officer who grabbed them while looking at the archeologist sideways.

"General, as I'm sure you're aware, we've done a lot of research and investigation using the information obtained from the Ancient database. This is the one that Jack…General O'Neill had downloaded into to his mind. On some of it we're still in the earliest stages of research, on others we've hit solid roadblocks because of lack of further information or references. But we have managed to make headway on some things, especially gate addresses of interest.

"We've started cross-referencing the addresses we obtained with the parts of Atlantis' databases and knowledge repositories that Doctor Weir's staff has been able to work with. Like us they're in the early stages of their own investigation. We find that like usual archeological processes here on Earth, we're playing detective. There's a massive amount of data to collate and cross-reference…"

"Oh, I'm aware of that Doctor. Your request for more computing power and hardware crosses my desk. So, where are we going here?"

"Basically, we've taken an address from the Ancients' database and found references to it, in detail, in the Atlantis records."

"Which world is this?"

"PXG-147. What made it really stand out first of all is the fact that it is a relatively isolated address, sort of off the grid if you will. That was what brought it to our attention in the first place. The Ancients did not make a habit of having locations in remote corners unless they really wanted to."

"Okay, what are these references from Atlantis you spoke of?"

"There was some communications records that we came across that spoke of large amounts of visits to the planet, though no direct indication of colonization but it is certainly possible. There were movement orders for ships and men, that sort of thing."

"General, if I may?"

"Colonel?"

Sam leaned over the table slightly to face Landry. "I've assisted in reviewing those communications records that Daniel is talking about. Whatever was going on, the Ancients had a rather serious interest in this world. At some point, they put on a major operation, at least by their standards. Ships, men, all of that. Possibly disaster relief, possible colonization; it's not in the Goa'uld sphere of influence. As a matter of fact, as Daniel said, it is really isolated."

"Show me this location."

Daniel used a remote control to bring up a large stellar map on the plasma screen. A small green dot in a sea of black indentified PXG-147. "As you can see, it is rather on its own."

"Certainly. Bob?"

Colonel Robert Henson, the SGC's Director of Operations leaned over. "Yes sir?"

"Have we ever had any teams operating in this area?"

"No sir. Doctor Jackson is certainly correct that this world is isolated. We haven't been within light years of the place nor do we know of any other powers operating in that region. Colonel Glyndon's intelligence staff has reviewed Doctor Jackson's findings and hasn't turned up any red flags."

"Alright. Doctor Jackson, what are you proposing?"

"I'd recommend we begin an immediate investigation of this world. The fact that it is so prominently mentioned by the Ancients means that there may be either archeological or technological finds to be made there."

"Has the IOA Science Staff seen your findings?"

"Yes. I briefed them this morning and they've signed off on my findings. We have a 'go' recommendation from them."

"And if you're cleared to proceed?"

"Standard investigation. We start with a MALP survey, possibly followed by a UAV sweep. If the results show promise, we move to put people on the ground."

"What's our gate schedule look like for the next week or so?"

Another Air Force officer, Lt. Col. Mike O'Leary, looked over from the other side of the table. O'Leary was the Gate Operations Branch Chief. He was the scheduler and people herder and practically had the gray hair to show for it. Nothing went through without his knowledge and consent. It made for long days and a lot of ego stroking.

"We're pretty well booked up this week sir, especially for this type of survey. I've got some unscheduled time the beginning of next week where we can work it."

"Then let's start getting that scheduled. That work for you Doctor?"

"Yes General. The sooner the better."

"Sir?"

"Yeah Bob?"

"My only recommendation is that if we move to put boots on the ground we send a larger than normal security element along. The fact that this planet is so isolated plus its repeated mention in Ancient military dispatches warrants some concern."

"That's fine. Doctor, you have a go. Coordinate with Colonel Henson and update me once we've established a connection for a MALP survey."

And so began the SGC's latest adventure, born out of a simple meeting in a conference room. Its ramifications would be felt far beyond its plain walls.

**Fort Bragg, North Carolina**

"When do you meet with President Hayes?"

"In two days. We're going to his retreat. What do you call it?"

"Camp David. It's in Maryland."

"Yes, that's it. We're meeting with him and his advisors for the better part of a day."

"How was New York? Did you like it?"

An older man just shook his head. "An amazing place. So large and busy. They took us to this 'Ellis Island' and your Statue of Liberty while we were there and my simple descriptions would not do it justice. Our people on Dakara will not believe me; they'll think you drugged me. I had never imagined it being that large or that busy and I will have to apologize to O'Neill; I thought he was lying."

"Did you get a bagel like he suggested?"

"Yes. That 'cream cheese' he spoke of was very good."

"Cream cheese will be one of our gifts to the universe, along with some good music and baseball."

The older man's eyes lit up. "Oh, you mean the Yankees? We got to see them too."

The small group of men standing together laughed and turned their attention to the goings-on around them. They were in an isolated part of an important part of the United States military infrastructure; that was the very reason for today's visit.

Fort Bragg was enormous, so much so that it was easy to get lost amongst its thousands of acres of training areas and scrub pines. Home to the four Brigade Combat Teams of America's legendary 82nd Airborne Division, Fort Bragg was also the spiritual and physical home of the US Army's special operations community. It was here that the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center turned out the elite men who would man the Army's Special Forces groups and by extension, would bring their talents to Colorado and the SGC. In a quiet and restricted part of the post, another group of men called Fort Bragg home. These men were out of the ordinary and on this day they were showing how unique they were by assaulting a 'target' for their guests. It may have been a dog and pony show, but it was an important one.

The assault element was deathly silent, relying solely on their training and rudimentary hand and arm signals to communicate. Communication between them was in actuality little needed as the group had thousands of hours of shared training time which allowed each of them to know the strengths, weaknesses and tendencies of each man on the team, that familiarization being its ultimate strength. Like every operation they performed, every movement, every responsibility had been planned out and coordinated before any action had been taken. They knew which way to go, who was responsible for which section of a room and who was covering each doorway. It was ballet of the highest order, with just as much devotion to perfection but with higher stakes.

The six men moved fluidly through the makeshift building, covering as many areas of potential threat as possible. Each movement they made was maximized; they had the grace of dancers and the bodies of boxers all in one highly effective package that was honed by the most intense preparation. They were Olympic athletes; only their games were deadlier. If there was one art form man had perfected, it was the wholesale application of directed violence and these men were its high priests.

Suddenly and without warning the simple plywood door leading to a room was blown violently from its hinges and four of the men entered the room even as the noise of the blast was still reverberating. Smoke was everywhere and would have impeded the average person. Each man covered his assigned area of the room and engaged a target, in this case made of paper. In seconds the potential threats within were neutralized, each team member using their custom weapons as if they were extensions of their very arms, firing short and extremely accurate bursts of fire that formed perfect patterns in the center of each target. Little noise was heard from them as each was a suppressed carbine of the highest quality manufacture.

The performance was appreciated by the men watching, some of whom were ensconced in a tower overhead. This was a 'shoot house', used by the military to train its members in the art known as CQB, or Close Quarter Combat. An art that was learned the hard way in places like Carentan, Hue and Mogadishu; it was now a religion in the mammoth entity that was the United States military and for very good reason. CQB had grounding principles, namely speed, fluidity and violence of action. Better to shock and overwhelm your opponent went the thinking, than to grind it out and suffer the casualties.

All signs pointed to future conflicts on Earth being heavily engaged in urban areas. The percentage of the human population living in urban centers was large and growing rapidly and most of the men watching the performance knew that. The others were just learning that, namely because they were just now learning more about Earth and the human race in general. The men in the tower personified that situation.

The quiet older man with a salt and pepper goatee and an even more serious demeanor was the first to speak.

"Impressive Colonel."

"Thank you Master Bra'tac."

The recipient of the compliment kept his acknowledgement to a minimum. Each was a professional and well versed in their chosen calling. Colonel John Birmingham had met Master Bra'tac on previous occasions and had come away impressed by the man with the stony countenance, who exuded a sense of honor and professionalism he could relate to. Like Bra'tac, Birmingham was a warrior and a leader, a leader in this case of what was considered one of the finest collections of military talent on Earth, if not now the known universe. Birmingham was the commander of the United States Army's 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta. The public knew them by a different, technically incorrect and far simpler moniker:

Delta Force

The men of Delta, who were known by the simple title of 'operator', scoffed at that image, fed as it was by a 1980's B-grade movie and by countless books and movies, all of them overblown and all of them wrong. They were much different than the public perception. Quiet, reticent and unnaturally motivated, they weren't cowboys or talkers, although they had their share of men with a distinct flair. They were professional to a level the average man could only dream of; athletic, smart and of clear mind, they could be masters of any field of endeavor they chose, whether it be the law, clergy, science or the military. They were also the products of the most intensive training regime in military history.

Delta had been brought into the SGC fold early, for the simple reason that its unique capabilities and the quality of its personnel fit seamlessly with the SGC's mission of doing a lot with not much. Delta operators had been involved in some the most sensitive SGC operations, including the capture and removal of Goa'uld weapons scientists and their creations, giving a boost to the SGC's technological base. The men of Delta had taken the existence of the SGC and alien life in stride, mainly because of their ability to compartmentalize and focus; Birmingham was emblematic of this.

A graduate of West Point, he'd chosen the Infantry Branch looking for the adventure that most young and motivated 22 year olds want. Athletically gifted, he'd found himself grinding through Airborne, Air Assault and Ranger schools and then joining the elite 75th Ranger Regiment, America's premier light infantry formation. What followed was a career molded by the experiences one gains in the special operation community: Special Forces, assignments to some of the most sensitive places on Earth and a stint with Delta. In between he'd managed to get a Master's Degree at Johns Hopkins and gain a reputation as one of the Army's most up and coming leaders. Then came the call to lead his old unit, the one that officially didn't exist, even if everyone knew it did. 'Everyone' included the members of the Jaffa High Council who were being given a tour of the United States. Rarely did outsiders get to see members of Delta and their training up close, but the urgency of making nice with the Jaffa had overridden things. Birmingham was leery.

"It is amazing, the differences in philosophy between the warriors of the Tau'ri and our own. We train in such different ways even though we train for many of the same reasons."

"True enough Bra'tac. The Jaffa ideal of the 'warrior' and his calling is something we can all learn from." Birmingham snorted internally as a thought crossed his mind: _Except the part about being cannon fodder for ego driven narcissists._

"The Tau'ri train to fight as a group and that is where you focus. We have always believed in the primacy of the warrior and his singular drive and ability. Our battles were always decided by the will and courage of each singular warrior; you place your emphasis on the group achieving a goal together. When I first met O'Neill and Hammond, I was highly skeptical of the Tau'ri's abilities; I thought you soft and I was wrong.

"Take what your men just did. Jaffa would just walk in and shoot at whoever shot at them, ignoring losses and using brute force and intimidation. Your men use stealth and surprise, minimizing your risks. There's a lesson there for young Jaffa."

"Thank you Bra'tac, that's quite the compliment coming from you."

"We've learned much from each other and still can. The new Free Jaffa Army could use some of your concepts. What do you call them? 'Combined Arms' and 'Shock and Awe'?"

Two other men stood in the tower and took in the conversation that was unfolding. Colonel Paul Davis hadn't fought many battles except of the bureaucratic kind. As the liaison of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to the SGC, he was a fixer and a doer, finding ways to keep the Pentagon bureaucracy happy and the resources flowing to the SGC. He was rare; a rear echelon man and Pentagon resident to boot who had the respect and ear of the operators at the SGC. More than once he'd put his career on the line to help the SGC and amazingly lived to tell the tale. He was also the Jack of All Trades, in this case acting as the tour guide for the members of the High Council visiting Earth. He wasn't alone; the State Department had their long arms into it as well.

The second man had the look of a college fraternity smart-ass or an Air Force fighter pilot, which was generally the same thing. Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell was your typical fighter jock, one with thousands of hours in the F-16C Fighting Falcon and F-302A. A latecomer to the SGC, he'd started off commanding a squadron of F-302's before begging his way onto SG-1 and making a name for himself by producing what the military loves, namely results. Now he was helping Davis to shepherd the High Council around and was trying to enjoy it by teaching the friendlier ones some random details of American pop culture. It was a tall order.

Mitchell joined into the conversation. "'Combined Arms'? So you're going to get your Death Gliders into the CAS mission?"

Bra'tac had been studying US military lingo long enough to know that by 'CAS' Mitchell was referring to 'Close Air Support', the providing of coordinated air support for ground troops. Up until now, the Jaffa's idea of CAS was to shoot at small villages to terrorize the population. Getting them to change would be a challenge.

"There are those of us, I among them Mitchell, who believe that lives could be spared if we took some lessons from your ideas and coordinated our efforts better. Some don't think that is a noble endeavor."

"I think I can guess who."

Bra'tac merely shifted on his heels, almost like a boxer and a faint smirk crossed his lips that Mitchell swore was very un-Bra'tac like. "Oh really Colonel?"

"Gerak?"

"Gerak is a proud man, a noble warrior who I respect, even if we disagree about our relations with the Tau'ri. Gerak believes that we must rely on ourselves for now and gather our strength; he is also very suspicious of your intentions, regardless of Teal'c and me speaking for you in council."

"Is that why he didn't come on this trip?"

"Among other reasons."

Bra'tac and Mitchell looked down below, where two Delta operators were briefing a group of Jaffa on their custom rifles and the tactics they'd just employed. Like all conversations between Earth personnel and Jaffa, it looked stiff at first, until Mitchell saw a Jaffa actually laugh at a comment from one of the Delta operators. The entire group seemed to relax a little and started debating tactics from the look of things. It gave Mitchell a little hope.

Birmingham made an observation. "We're just now mastering space travel. Does he think we're a threat to the Jaffa?"

"Even Gerak is appreciative of the assistance the Tau'ri gave us to throw off the false gods; but his suspicions are still there."

"That we're a threat?"

Mitchell could have sworn that Bra'tac was wincing at the idea, even if it was true.

"I believe he thinks that you could grow into one. That is why he wishes to blunt your growth. He knows that your governments don't always agree and he sees that as useful."

Even Colonel Davis was surprised by this revelation and switched into intelligence gathering mode. "Really? How would he try to use that?"

"We know that your United States was the driving force behind the Tau'ri's advancement into the universe and your undermining of the System Lords. But we're aware that things are changing; your influence and wealth are in some decline, not enough to change things dramatically, but enough that certain factions on Dakara and elsewhere have taken notice. You have other nations growing strong and they are pressing their opinions through your IOA."

"That's very observant of your representatives at the IOA."

"Things get noticed Colonel Davis. Gerak's followers want to use this. That is why they've been arguing that the Council should enlarge our relations with Russia and this new nation we've heard of, China. I must ask; does it really contain one billion humans?"

"Actually Bra'tac, it's more like 1.5 billion."

Bra'tac just shook his head in amazement. "The Russians have been very aggressive, as have these 'French', to sell us things like weaponry and technologies. They believe we can keep the Tau'ri split and inwardly focused, so that you will not gain too much power and influence. Teal'c and I have argued against this; I want a Jaffa-Tau'ri alliance, it would benefit us both."

The three American military officers stood in silence for a moment taking in the impact of Bra'tac's revelations.

Mitchell took in Bra'tac's revelations and was nearly speechless. "Wow…I mean…wow."

Davis was more direct. "How much influence is he garnering on Dakara? Is he trying to become your de facto leader again? Is he trying to resurrect that 'lead by military power' idea?"

"I am uncertain of this Colonel Davis. Gerak's supporters are split into two groups. The first have no trust in the intentions of the Tau'ri. To those he speaks of not trusting the Americans and their promises."

Mitchell chuckled. "We've heard that record before."

"The second group is made up of people who want us to stand on our own but are willing to work with the Tau'ri. To them he talks of working with the IOA, especially the Russians. O'Neill had a saying. He called it 'playing both sides'."

"The fact is Bra'tac, that we need each other. The universe is too big and there are too many threats for us not to work together. Look at the Lucian Alliance. At some point we'll need to confront that issue and we're better together than apart."

"I know this my friends. Teal'c knows this of course as do many on Dakara, but old ways die hard." Bra'tac looked down and nodded to a single Jaffa. "And here's the proof."

The group watched as a lone Jaffa left the group below and headed up the tower to where Bra'tac and the Americans were talking. He was young, at least in appearance and had the same disciplined walk that was seemingly ubiquitous among Jaffa. And just like many Jaffa, it seemed smiling was in some way physically painful to him since it appeared he did as little of it as possible.

"His name is Te'nar and he is Gerak's personal representative on this tour. An honorable warrior but highly suspicious of your intentions. Whatever you say to him will make to Gerak's ear."

"Well, then we'll have to make a good impression."

Bra'tac turned to face the large Jaffa climbing the metal steps.

"Te'nar, please join us here. What did you think of Colonel Birmingham's men?"

"I found it interesting Master Bra'tac." Te'nar looked over at Birmingham, a sign of a smile nowhere to be found. "Your men obviously train hard Colonel. It's obvious you had success against the false gods, but what do you train for now? And why do so few in your society step forward to serve nobly."

Birmingham looked over at the Jaffa warily. It was obvious that this Te'nar was trying to bait him, for whatever reason. Birmingham had played a lot of mind games with people over the years but he really wasn't interested this time. But he'd play his role.

"So few Te'nar? We have nearly 1.5 million men and woman in the US military, each one a volunteer."

"So few? For such a large and wealthy society? I wonder if you're people take honor and courage as seriously as they should. They're so busy making themselves wealthy they may have forgotten."

"Oh, they haven't forgotten how to fight. You were in New York, just insult a New Yorker and see what happens."

"I saw your New York City Colonel. Impressive but still troubling at the same time. So many who go about seeking only for themselves instead of something greater. Where is the honor in that?"

Mitchell had heard this before from others and it drove him insane. Before Birmingham could reply, he looked over at Te'nar while hiding his disgust.

"We're a democracy Te'nar, as are many other nations here. People are free to make their own choices about how to live their lives including whether to serve in our military. Didn't stop us from kicking the System Lord's asses. Just ask Anubis. Oh wait, yeah you can't, he's dead."

Te'nar's nostrils flared as if he wanted to snap at Mitchell, but surprisingly for a Jaffa, he bit his lip.

Bra'tac, in a new role for him, attempted to play peacemaker. "Te'nar, like you I was once highly doubtful as to the Tau'ri's abilities. But I have seen them in action and know they are both capable and honorable."

"That may be, Bra'tac, but what will happen when the Tau'ri people become aware of us? Their governments already ally themselves with the Tok'ra and the Asgard, two former adversaries. Isn't it in their interest to keep us down, in our 'place' as they see it?"

"In your place?" Mitchell asked. "We don't see you in any 'place' other than as an important friend and ally. Many good men and woman from Earth died alongside you fighting the Goa'uld. As did the Tok'ra."

"We appreciate what your warriors did to help us Colonel. As for the Tok'ra, they have their own motives and goals which we can only speculate about." Te'nar looked around at the assembled group with a neutral stare. "You Tau'ri are an intriguing lot. You go around saying all the nice things about 'democracy' and 'freedom of choice' but the fact is you're really like the rest of us. You can and do play power for all you can, when you can. And you try to do it with clean hands and innocent looks

"But one day, this universe, which is an unforgiving beast, isn't going to respond to platitudes and looks. And you'll have that innocence knocked right out of you. Hopefully you'll learn from it."


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Near Caprica**

The space-lanes here were some of the busiest in the Colonies, countless ships shuffled back and forth in orbit delivering goods and people to the beating heart of the Twelve Colonies of Man, the bright jewel set in the sea of black. Caprica was the self proclaimed hub of human civilization, a proud statement which drew the constant ire of its neighbours but which also had more than a grain of truth in its boldness. Caprica was the seat of government, the home of learning and the cradle of inspiration. It was the service center of the Colonies; it had the best universities, the highest percentage of technological industry, and revelled in the culture of indulgence.

These days that culture was considerably more austere than it had been, but even so life on Caprica was decadent and opulent to an extreme compared to the more rural Colonies like Aerilon and Gemenon. In the past it had been even more hedonistic, a world where whims and fantasy had been a common pastime where every vice was catered for in reality or in virtuality. All that had come to a crashing halt with the Cylon War, where the ultimate expression of human decadence had turned around and begun shooting people, something which hadn't been in the master plan.

Caprica had suffered in the war; the high percentage of Cylons on the world coupled with its relatively small army meant the initial stages of the war were horrific. Cities were completely gutted; their inhabitants exterminated to the last soul, the gleaming towers and delicate civilization wholly unprepared for the slaughter visited upon it.

In the ultimate irony it had taken a Tauron army to turn the tide, landing on Caprica, their oldest rival, as allies and liberators. They linked up with the Caprican army and finally broke the main Cylon army in a massive battle whose desperation and heroism had become legendary. The fighting men and women of the Colonies, hugely outnumbered, fought to the last bullet, then went hand to hand with their robotic enemies fuelled by pure anger and courage. The scene had been immortalised in countless films and pictures, one of the most famous of which hung within the Battlestar _Galactica_.

But the war had been forty years ago now, Caprica had rebuilt and was already inching back towards the decadence of its pre war state. People like Gaius Baltar were advocating a return to that society, assuring people the lessons had been learned and such a disaster could not happen again. They could have the good old days back with none of the risks, and people were buying it. A whole generation had grown up without ever seeing a Cylon save in a museum, a hollow metal shell gleaming under spotlights. Those people didn't see the problems in Baltar's premise and as such it was gaining ground despite fervent opposition from the older members of society.

Caprica itself sat gleaming beneath the traffic, oblivious to the debate going on across its surface, the conflict of caution and convenience. Its green lands, blue seas and white clouds harboured no hint of conflict, appearing much as it must have done to those first refugees thousands of years ago, a haven welcoming them from their war torn past.

Lee Adama knew this but stood apart from it; he had followed the debate and as a military man naturally erred on the side of caution. He wasn't averse to taking the odd calculated risk but by nature he preferred to leap only after he had looked, conducted extensive local reconnaissance, and then viewed a series of time-lapsed satellite photographs. He knew more about the Cylon War than the average citizen of the Colonies and could recognise folly when it reared its mocking head, but his lone voice wouldn't add much one way or another.

Within the cockpit of his fighter he felt insulated, the close confines serving to cocoon him from the worlds beyond, from the needless debate and political self service. Within this cockpit the world distilled into several simple concepts: pitch, yaw, acceleration and the other readings his controls displayed. Within here he was lord and master of his world, in complete control of his own destiny with his fate held in his own two hands.

This life was not his first choice, and over the years he had begun to resent it, to look at the uniform as a strait jacket holding him down. He was good at what he did, blessed with the natural reflexes and coordination of an excellent fighter pilot, but he had always known this was not his choice. He'd tried to fool himself into believing it was but the truth was never quiet for long. He had joined because of his father. In the past he had resented it, but now he hated it, he hated every single second of it.

It wasn't the service, it wasn't the people, hell he actually enjoyed flying, but he was here because of pressure from his father, the same pressure that had put his brother in the same place and had sent him to his grave. Every time he stepped into a cockpit now he saw his brother doing the same thing. The peace and joy he had felt cruising the stars died with Zak, as did his rationalisation for joining up. All he had now was solitude and a reminder of the emptiness all around them. In some ways it was a blessing.

He avoided the traffic without difficulty, his flight computer holding to its flight plan flawlessly. The fleet was due to upgrade the navigation software soon pending a final decision on which programme to accept, a fully integrated data linking system designed to have an entire fleet fight as one entity. Sounded fine on paper, but to Lee quite redundant. That's what training was for, something no computer could replace.

The bustle faded into the distance, the liners, freighters and mega tankers receding to dots, then points of moving light barely visible over his shoulder. As the tracks shifted away Lee was left with just one blip on DRADIS, a huge metallic mass holding station beyond the shipping lanes at the end of his navigation line. He couldn't see it at this range but she was there, hidden behind the chipped demi-moon Bellisarius. The last of the original Battlestars.

Lee could feel bile rising in his throat as the ship came into view, not for the ship itself but for what it contained and what it meant for his future. When the word came down he was being transferred to this command he came within a heartbeat of resigning his commission, his sense of duty just barely winning out. He had been lobbying hard for a transfer to the _Pegasus_, regarded by most as the elite of the Colonial Fleet and scheduled to receive the first batch of Viper MK VII-E fighters, the latest upgrade to the venerable Viper family and a superior craft to the MK VII-C Lee was currently flying. He thought with his exemplary record and clear skills he had an excellent chance of assignment, and his CO agreed, until word had come from the top brass that he was instead going to _Galactica_. And why? Because that's where his dad was. Not because they needed a pilot of his caliber, or because he'd screwed up, but because his dad was there.

If he was keeping a tally of all the times his father had ruined his life this would have been right up there.

And so there she was, the Grand Old Lady of the Fleet, reflecting the distant sun on her sharp frame and patchwork armour. She was a stirring sight, a floating fortress still proudly defending her dependents, untired by years and undimmed by age. There were still several ships like her in frontline service but they were post war models, enlarged and modernised for continued service. The _Galactica_ herself was still in her original configuration, a literal antique filled with the type of computers and systems only found in museums these days. It had been common knowledge that she was about to be retired from active duty making her sudden reactivation a bit of a surprise. Lee could see a couple of supply tenders docked inside her flight pods, the long thin ships taking up most of the available space meaning he had to put his bird down right the first time. There was no space for a go around. Whatever the reason she was being fully fuelled and armed, given the cost of such an action the Navy was obviously serious.

"_Galactica_ flight control, this is Apollo requesting landing clearance." He initiated contact.

"_Apollo, _Galactica_. You are cleared for hands on approach on runway one."_

"Confirm that_ Galactica_, hands on approach?" Lee asked.

"_Confirmed, hands on."_

"Roger that _Galactica_. I have the ball." Lee answered with a mild hint of annoyance. It had been a while since he'd put a fighter down manually, it should be interesting.

He matched speed, accelerated slightly and cruised into the covered hangar, noting the darkened area above him where a Cylon raider had suicided the bay during the Battle of Acheron. Every inch of the _Galactica_ told a story, one of defiance and courage against fearsome odds. She wasn't the first of her kind, she wasn't even the hardest fought, but she was the only one to survive the battles and budget cuts and while other ships might have fought longer they had invariably been lost in action. Of all the ships left _Galactica _was easily the most battle worn, her battle honours reading like a list of major engagements from the final years of the war. She was a legend to the fleet, service on her was considered a useful stepping stone and a good anecdote in any ward room, though these days with her retirement in sight she had earned a reputation as a bit of a dumping ground for rookies and misfits.

Never the less she was still a Battlestar, still more than capable of standing in the line of battle and delivering fire and fighters into any engagement. Her guns were as good as any other ships, firing the same standard rounds and her launch tubes strengthened to handle the latest generation of fighters. She might be the last of the old Block One _Columbia_ Class Battlestars, but she hadn't gone to her quiet sleep yet.

Lee put his fighter down gently on the centre of the pad, the magnetic skids clamping down as the pad retracted through a series of air locks dropping down into the armoured hanger deck itself. It was a comfortable enough landing despite him being a little rusty, the archaic landing system requiring more than a little effort on his part.

As the blast doors parted his fighter was trundled across a very familiar deck, the basic layout of the hanger no different to the modern ships in the fleet. He could have been on a _Mercury_ save for the tell tale antique diagnostic computers being wheeled back and forth. Apparently the layout was one of the things the original designers had nailed first time with subsequent generations having no requirement to change it.

He made sure his systems were safe, then popped the canopy and removed his helmet, an impossibly young deck hand pushing a ladder against his fighter for him to exit. He clambered down and made eye contact with a heavy set Petty Officer who cast an approving eye over his fighter.

"Welcome aboard _Galactica_ Captain, I'm Chief Tyrol and I'll be looking after your bird."

"You know I was hands on through the whole approach Chief?" Lee asked almost as an accusation, his irritable mood seeping through his exterior.

"Yes sir, we don't have any networks or data links on board. Everything is hands on sir; it's how the Old Man likes it."

"Yeah." Lee sneered, storming off the deck. "I bet he does."

Tyrol raised a brief shrug before turning back to the plane. "That's a man with a lot on his mind."

"He's the Old Man's kid right?" Specialist Cally Henderson asked, climbing down from the cockpit in her slightly too big helmet. "I wouldn't have guessed it."

"That's because you haven't seen the Commander pissed." Tyrol winked. "Come on, purge those exhausts and let's put this bird to bed."

"You got it Chief."

"Come on knuckle draggers!" Tyrol called out. "Big day, we still need space in the magazines for all those missiles! Move like you got a purpose!"

The pilot's ready room was only a few frames away from the hanger deck, bypassing the briefing room and finding his billet. He located his locker and opened it to find a lone cigar inside wrapped up in a note from Kara Thrace telling him she'd see him after she got back from patrol. That brought him a rare smile, Kara was a screw up of the first degree, as wild and untamed as anyone he'd met, but she was also a damn good friend to have at your side and the best pilot in the Fleet, a fact she thought would let her get away with anything. He hadn't spoken to her much, not since they'd buried Zak, and to be honest he was looking forward to it. Taking about Zak's death was like walking over broken glass, but it was time they started talking again. Both of them really needed a friend.

"Hey, Captain Apollo?"

Lee closed his locker door and looked for the man who had called his name, a tall officer in a flight suit accompanied by a much smaller female.

"It's Lieutenant Agathon right?" Lee searched his memory. "Karl?"

"That's right, good memory." Karl reached out his hand. "We met briefly on Caprica."

"Helo." Lee grinned, shaking the hand. "One of Starbuck's buddies from the Academy."

"That's me." The big man smiled back. "Trying to keep Kara out of trouble."

"Good luck with that one, I never managed it!"

"Me neither." Helo chuckled before his eyes sank. "I'm sorry about, you know."

"Thanks." Lee nodded.

"It hit Kara pretty hard, I knew Zak myself and he was a good kid. He's missed."

"Appreciated." Lee kept his jaw straight. "So you're flying Raptors these days?"

"Backseater. Boomer does all the hard work." He gestured to the small female who at once snapped a salute.

"Lieutenant Sharon Valerii sir."

"You don't have to salute me in here Lieutenant." Lee smiled sincerely. "Relax."

"Yes sir, sorry sir." She answered. "I'm still pretty new to this."

"Your first posting?"

"Yes sir, Helo here is trying to keep me on the straight and narrow."

"I should change my call sign to Shepherd; I'm always looking after Rooks." Helo grinned.

"Maybe babysitter." Lee joked. "No offense Boomer."

"None taken sir."

"And call me Lee off duty or Apollo on. We're all pilots here."

"Except me." Helo said.

"Except him." Lee agreed. "Because he's lazy."

"Not gonna pass up a free ride." He laughed back. "You gotta join us for Pyramid tonight, you play right?"

"I play."

"Great." Boomer laughed. "Someone else for Starbuck to clean out."

"So Apollo, you here for this Op?" Helo asked.

"Looks like it; it's a long term transfer." He confirmed.

"Any idea what it is?"

"Sorry Helo, haven't a clue."

"Scuttlebutt is we're going over the border." Boomer chipped in. "Trying to find a lost Cylon colony."

"Just talk." Apollo shook his head. "No one knows, and…" His voice tailed off as his eyes drifted to the door, causing both Helo and Boomer to look around. Standing in the hatch was the Old Man himself, straight faced as ever.

"Helo, Boomer." He spoke in his trademark hushed voice. "Mind if I have a little privacy with Captain Apollo?"

"No sir." Helo replied, quickly steering Boomer out of the room and closing the hatch behind him, clearly against Boomer's curiosity. They left father and son together, staring at each other over the ready room table.

"Good to see you well son." Bill Adama finally spoke awkwardly.

"Yeah." Lee answered noncommittally.

"How's your mother?"

"She's fine."

"Good."

"She's seeing someone."

"I heard." Bill tilted his head. "I'm glad for her."

"Right."

There was another length silence.

"So we going to stick to one syllable answers or are we going to talk?"

"I've got nothing to say to you Dad." Lee spoke blankly, devoid of emotion. "I'm here for a mission, that's all."

"There's going to be a pretty heavy press element to this mission, part of that is the gimmick of putting father and son on the same ship."

"I couldn't care less. I'll do what I'm told; if I have to pose for the cameras I will, but don't imagine this means anything is going to change between us."

"Lee…"

"You're my commanding officer, that's it." He answered sharply. "Is there anything else sir?"

"Yeah, yeah there's something else." Bill gritted his teeth. "How long are you going to blame me for what happened to Zak?"

"I'm not talking about this."

"He passed basic flight like anyone else! What happened was an accident!"

"Sure, an accident, but it should never have happened!" Lee spat out. "He did not belong in that fighter!"

"He passed…"

"He didn't belong there dad! And you'd know that if you were there to see him struggling to keep in the air!" Lee snarled back, his anger bubbling over. "But you weren't, you weren't there, you were never there."

"So it always comes back to this. You know full well why I was kept away from home."

"Yeah I know, you had a choice between career and family and we came second."

"That's not what it's like, you wear the uniform, and you should understand that."

"Yeah the uniform, because a man's not a man until he wears the wings of a Viper pilot." Lee shook his head. "I remember you saying that, and I remember that was the last thing Zak said to me before he flew into the frakking ground! Why weren't you happy with one? You pretty much dictated my life in the Fleet, why couldn't you let Zak be his own man?"

"Son…"

"You know what? Just don't." Lee turned his head away. "Whatever you are going to say is just noise! You haven't accepted responsibility yet for what you did to him."

"Responsibility? Gods damn you Lee; gods damn you if you think I'm just walking through this without giving a frak! I lost a son! If I could do anything to get Zak back I would do it in a heartbeat! Don't imagine for one second you've got a monopoly on pain!"

"Is there anything else, sir?" Lee tensed, his eyes still furious.

"You'll report to the CAG for assignment to Blue Squadron." The Commander ordered emptily. "We'll spend the next two weeks working up and restoring FTL capability before beginning the mission."

"What is the mission sir?"

"Classified." Bill replied. "That is all."

"Yes sir." Lee saluted. "Permission to leave."

"Granted." His father saluted. "Dismissed Apollo."

"With pleasure, sir."

Lee left the room without looking back, all he had to do was get through this and by the Lords of Kobol he'd get himself a deserved posting to an elite unit on an elite ship, or he'd be out of the service without a moment of regret.

**Aerilon**

**B4/21351**

Most of the ships in orbit over the food-basket of the Colonies came to load food supplies for export to the other Colonies. A few were ships from the Aerilon Lines star-liner company which was responsible for most passenger travel to and from this poorest of the Colonies. Fewer did not come for Aerilon's food or were not part of the Aerilon Lines. One of them was a former star-liner of the same type of another former star-liner called the Astral Queen. The civilian transport/passenger ship _Orion_.

_"Captain Tyler, call the bridge."_

In the _Orion_'s captain's quarters, candles were the only source of light and incense smoked. There was heavy breathing as a nude blonde woman moved astride a man lying in bed.

_"Captain Tyler, please call the bridge."_

The woman spoke softly. "Do we need to stop?"

"Uhhhh no. No, we definitely...mmmm...do not need to stop."

"Glad to hear that, Captain."

The woman gently flicked her head to get her dirty-blond hair out of her face, revealing a wry smile. It was a face that would have people remarking on a resemblance to a certain Caprican tabloid journalist, if they knew who she was. She wasn't as beautiful as the models posed for _Nymph_ magazine, but she was beautiful, smart and athletic enough for Tyler. Her blue eyes glittered in the candlelight as she continued moving.

"Do I make you happy?"

"What?"

The woman stopped moving and lightly touched his tight coarse woolly hair. "You heard me. Do I make you happy?"

The ship captain pulled her close so that his nose almost touched her nose. "Teresa Manning, you make me happier than I've been in--"

Several knocks on the hatch to the captain's quarters sounded, interrupting Tyler's answer.

"Gods damn it," swore Tyler. "I'm sorry. You know I--"

Teresa pressed a finger on his lips, interrupting him. She shushed and softly said, "I know."

The knocks sounded again as Teresa rolled off of Tyler and pulled the sheets up to cover herself. The captain then hurriedly put on his boxers and went to the hatch. Wheeling it unlocked and pulling it open, he peevishly said, "What...do...you..._want_?"

A beautiful thin woman stood at the open hatch. She had a natural tan, wore a flight jacket over a white shirt and a pair of light green cargo pants and brown boots. Her brown hair had natural lighter brown highlights. She looked disappointed, and if Tyler wasn't imagining it, a little hurt.

She said, "Sorry to bother you, Arvin. I know you're busy, but you're needed on the bridge."

"I know. I heard the intercom."

"Oh. Well. I think it might be important, so I told Ronnie that I'd come and get you."

Arvin Tyler resisted the temptation to grind his teeth. "Yeah, I bet you did." He pushed the hatch but left a crack open, and turned to find a shirt to put on.

"Sorry, Teresa. Duty calls."

Teresa smiled. "Sora sure knows how to time her comings and goings."

Tyler sighed. "Of course she does. That's what wives do."

Tyler entered the _Orion_'s bridge, trailed by his wife, Sora Tyler.

A man with dark hair coming down to his eyebrows looked up from the bridge's navigation table. "Ah! There's the man! Good morning, sunshine!"

Tyler scowled. "Save it, Ronnie. Not in the mood. What's the emergency?"

Ronnie Dyson glanced at Sora over Tyler's shoulder and a small knowing smile crept up on his face. "Emergency? Someone tell you there's an emergency?"

The civilian captain had caught Ronnie's knowing glance and frowned. "What do you think?"

Ronnie's knowing smile erupted into a grin. "Women are wonderful."

"Yeah, I was in the middle of discovering that for myself." Tyler almost decided to glare at his wife, Sora, who was moving to check some computer readings while watching the conversation out the corner of an eye. Almost.

"Well, Ronnie? What's up?"

"Oh, Ascalon Control at Aerilon relayed a message from Tauron." Ronnie shrugged. "I'm having a hard time believing it. Here, look."

Ronnie called up the message on a computer screen. As Tyler read it, his eyes grew wider by the sentence.

"It's from Sire Tassilo!"

Ronnie nodded. Tassilo Ataiun, a Tauron sire, and CEO of Actaeon, Co., a mega-corporation that owned other such entities as Ataiun Bank, Vergis Corporation, Alba-Lansing, Ares Oil & Tylium, and Felgercarb Healthcare, Inc. The white stag of the Ataiun family was not too well-known but had reaches throughout the Colonies. It was said that Sire Tassilo had some politicians on Tauron, Caprica and Sagittaron in his pocket.

"We've been hired. Well, to be more precise, we've been contracted to a military expedition."

Sora looked as if she just ate a sour lemon. "A military expedition? We're not an armed ship, but we have weapons. To where?"

After reading the message again, Tyler shrugged. "Doesn't say. Only that we're expected to stay with the Battlestar _Galactica_ and that we're going outside of Colonial space."

"Outside Colonial space? Neutral Space?" Ronnie nervously ventured to guess. Neutral Space was an area outside of Colonial and Cylon control, demarcated by marker buoys as dictated in the Cimtar Accords.

"I dunno. Doesn't track. This looks legit, though. There's a license signed by Admiral Rohner, Picon Fleet Headquarters. The pay is generous." Tyler reviewed the price offered... "Very generous. All supplies and the fuel for the expedition are covered in addition to the pay. We have to be at Caprica, though. The supplies and the expeditionary fleet are there."

"What about the delivery?"

Tyler looked up from the computer screen. "Guess we're not going to Sagittaron, after all." He grinned. "Might be a good thing, after all. Sagittaron does have the heaviest orbital defense system in the Colonies, you know."

Sora stood up from her station. "What about the collector at Port Centaur? He's expecting those Ithacan statuettes."

Tyler nodded. The little hand-carved statues from the ancient Ithacan culture were valuable, especially those carvings of elephants. Private collectors liked to get their hands on them and they fetched a good price in the black market since Ithacan artifacts were supposed to be in museums.

"I'll message the collector to meet us at Damocles Anchorage. We'll deliver the cargo there. At a discount, of course." He raised a hand to stall the expected protests from his crew. "The pay for the expedition is generous enough to cover the discount. Now...." He turned to Ronnie. "Will Pilot Three be fine?"

Ronnie shrugged as he and Tyler looked over to the three Cylon model 0005 Centurions sitting in the pilot seats. The Centurions looked as if they had been disassembled and put back together in a slightly haphazardly. They were. Two were missing many armor parts. And there were wires and cabling connecting a head, a chest and an arm or two to the computers. Tyler and his crew found these robots over the years and used them to save money, as they wouldn't need to pay and feed human pilots, and because the ship was under-crewed. Though each of the centurions still had the red lighted eye, it did not rove, a side-effect of their lack of higher cognitive functions. In effect, they were little more than glorified autopilot units that worked at all hours and were capable of reacting to obstacles in the ship's courses.

Since Cylons and any semblance of artificial intelligence were forbidden in the Colonies, the _Orion_'s crew, as a matter of course, didn't advertise the pilots' existence and nature, even though they were electronically lobotomized.

Ronnie shrugged as he said, "Yeah, it will be fine. They're _old_, you know. We could scrunch up spare parts at Damocles. It was a Cylon base, y'know."

Sora nodded in agreement. Damocles Anchorage was indeed a Cylon base set in the Damocles Asteroid Belt. It had served as a home-base for Cylon ships striking at Caprica, Tauron and Virgon until it was crippled and captured in the latter part of the Cylon War. Since then, it had served as a temporary Colonial military base, then a base for asteroid mining operations and a way station for civilian ships. Even though the military had cleaned out the base, there were still bits of old Cylon items floating around.

A wide toothy grin appeared on Ronnie's face as he slapped Tyler's shoulder. "Caprica! We could go fishing in the Coralines and drinking at Morrigan's in Port Taurian! It's nothing like the Pink Moon in Picon City, but it'll do!"

Arvin Tyler had to smile at Ronnie Dyson's enthusiasm. He transferred the smile over to Teresa Manning just as she was entering the bridge. Sora Tyler shot a poisonous look at the blonde as she returned to her work. Tyler didn't see it as he gestured for Ronnie to give the order.

"Set a course for Damocles Anchorage. Then calculate the course from Damocles to Caprica."

One of the Centurion pilots dipped its metal head and intoned monotonously as its metal fingers danced on the console, "By your command."

The captain spared Tassilo's message a look and muttered, "I hope it's not just the wick of the candle."

The _Orion_ soon spun up its FTL drive and jumped away from Aerilon's orbit in a flash of light and Cherenkov radiation.

**Colonial Fleet Proving Grounds  
Near Picon**

There were a lot of ships in the Fleet, a lot of roles and missions to cover and a lot of specialized designs to fulfill them. Some ships were vast, others tiny, but all of them bore certain things in common. They had crews, they had duties, they had independence, and they had a commanding officer. It was that final facet that was currently resting on Commander Jurgen Belzen's mind as the Raptor made its approach to the Battlestar _Perseus_, the responsibilities, qualities and decisions that he would have to make and display in his new post and the trust he would have to earn from personnel above and below him in rank.

Belzen wasn't new to the game; he'd been a Commander for a few years now and was confident in his ability to discharge his duties. Command didn't worry him, the responsibility didn't scare him, he knew he could do it, that he had what it took to stand in the middle of a ship and lead them to success in difficult circumstances. He could do it, but knowing it and proving it were two separate matters.

He'd earned his commission on the Battlestar _Pegasus_ under the tutelage of one of the harshest mistresses of the Fleet, Vice Admiral Helena Cain. Not only had he survived the experience he'd earned a glowing recommendation from his superior, Cain had actually been sad to see him go. Over the years he had come to regard her as a friend in addition to being his superior officer and he felt he had learned a lot from her, lessons he could take to his new command.

He'd been responsible for running the _Pegasus_, it was in essence his ship, but Cain was famously hands on as an Admiral and had a tendency to run the ship herself in addition to her duties commanding the small flotilla under her authority. On the one hand it had given him plenty of knowledge observing how she worked, but on the other it had sheltered him from a lot of the big decisions, given him almost a safety net to work from. As of today that net was gone, this time he was on his own.

That reality was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Command was his ultimate goal, to lead a Battlestar his main purpose in life. He wasn't interested in becoming an Admiral, he didn't care much for the pay raise and responsibility, all he wanted was to be out there with a ship of his own, walking the stars. Now he had that trophy in his hands, he would by the top of the pyramid on his ship, the master of his vessel and the last word of the law within its halls and decks. It was a lot of power, and he couldn't help but feel small in the face of it.

"I'll take us around the bow Commander." His Raptor pilot announced. "Give you a look at her."

"Sounds good Lieutenant." Belzen made his way forward, gazing out of the huge forward canopy. "Let's see home for the next few months."

The _Perseus_ was a warship, pure and simple. There were lots of ships built for war but the latest _Valkyrie_ class ships were among the few that really looked like it. The original _Valkyries_ had been decent ships built for deep range patrol and escorting task forces, the sort of jobs cruisers were too inflexible for and the larger Battlestars too valuable for. They'd filled the role well, but the Fleet had wanted more. The original design just wasn't aggressive enough; it had too much emphasis on the escort role. The Block Two's solved that.

These new _Valkyries_ were meaner and leaner than their rotund counterparts boasting sharper angles and a smaller cross section making them harder to hit. They were predators; hunters of the void built to seek out and engage enemy warships and wipe the floor with them. They were about a third the size of a _Mercury_ class ship but packed slightly more firepower, the dark hulls bristling with four dozen armored gun turrets and countless point defense chain guns, not to mention half a dozen launch tubes for heavy nuclear missiles.

Naturally this power came at a price, to make room for the guns and ammunition the ship had to sacrifice its air wing, carrying just four squadrons of Vipers and only the most basic workshops within its packed hull, much less impressive than the compact fighter production lines the _Mercury_ class boasted.

Still, their roles were different enough so it didn't matter. The _Mercury_ was designed to operate deep beyond Colonial space with minimal support striking Cylon targets and keeping the war in enemy territory, not among the Colonies. The extreme range, endurance and sustainability of the Battlestar fleet was a deliberate policy of the Ministry of Defense designed to avoid the massive civilian casualties of the last Cylon war. Every battle in a future war would be one of aggression aimed at the enemy heartlands, every fight would be in Cylon space, every instance of collateral damage affecting their industry, their infrastructure, their population. Not the Colonies.

In that role the _Valkyries_ would be among the most feared Colonial weapons, hunting alone or in wolfpacks easily capable of defeating Cylon basestars or ravaging unprotected worlds and bases. To perform such tasks the ships needed a certain breed of officer, and Jurgen Belzen fell into that category perfectly.

The great Battlestars were stately engines of destruction, mobile fortresses capable of performing any task of war from carrier strikes to planetary sieges to direct ship to ship combat. Their commanders needed to be able to react to changing circumstances, to be masters of any of the varied scenarios they may find, to switch from offence to defense, from launching fighter strikes to engaging capital ships in the blink of an eye. Experience was the definition of such men and women, with only a rare few given such a prestigious command without serving at least three or four decades in uniform. Originally they were officers who had seen action in the last Cylon war, but as time marched on the number of veterans was steadily dwindling and by now the majority had seen no real action.

But a _Valkyrie_ was different, its role was more limited and its capabilities less diverse than a larger ship. Its commanders didn't have to be jacks of all trades; instead they needed to be aggressive, adventurous and able to tell the difference between a calculated risk and a suicide mission. _Valkyries_ were expected to be opportunists, requiring officers with excellent judgment and a knack for spotting weaknesses to exploit. They would be independent, requiring someone with the spirit to keep crews motivated and the common sense to act without orders. They were also built to go head to head with enemy ships at point blank range, requiring people with ice cold nerves and that most rare of talents, killer instinct.

A _Mercury_ might be the ultimate expression of Colonial power and prowess, and command of one the crowning achievement of any career, but for young officers service on a _Valkyrie_ was the dream and they'd pass up a _Mercury_ any day in favor of a hunting squadron. The _Valkyries_ lived up to the promise of the recruiting sergeants, they delivered the adventure of a lifetime, and Jurgen Belzen was ready to live that dream.

He couldn't help but smile as the Raptor passed over his new command, its lethal lines and arrayed guns silently promising to fulfill any task he set them to. The ship was newly commissioned, just a few months out of the docks and still carrying its original coat of paint with none of the grime and dust accumulation of serving warships. In time she'd develop that film of detritus, the mark of a serving defender of the Colonies. The final mark showing this ship as a brand new construct was the addition of a band of extra armor over the engines at the back, a simple bent plate of metal protecting the vulnerable thrust pods from overhead attack. It was a new idea being fitted to new build warships and if successful would be retrofitted to older ships.

The Raptor completed its brief detour, rolling about and entering the covered pods, flitting across the deck to touch down directly on one of the deck lifts, a couple of land rams cleaning the deck further forward as part of final preparations for departure. The entire ship felt expectant, as if the bolts and girders themselves were straining at the leash, barely holding themselves back from embarking on this next great voyage. The air of expectation grew exponentially as the transport was lowered into the smaller than usual hangar bay, a small entourage of Marines lined up waiting for him headed by the current commanding officer.

"Alright then." Belzen stepped towards the door and straightened his jacket. "Showtime."

The Raptor cranked open its side door, the mustard color portal raising to reveal Belzen standing confidently and formally behind its shield, finally walking out onto the wing and taking a symbolic lungful of processed air from his new command. He dropped down to the deck and halted face to face with a tall slim female in her early thirties, dark eyes briefly took his measure before she raised a salute to her fair haired temple.

"Colonel Selma Bless, Battlestar _Perseus_."

"Commander Jurgen Belzen, formerly of the Battlestar _Pegasus_." He answered the salute.

"Sir, I am authorized at this time to relinquish command of the _Perseus_ to you."

"By order of the Admiralty and the Commander-in-Chief I am hereby requested and required to assume command of Battlestar _Perseus_. You are relieved Colonel."

"I stand relieved." She returned formally, before breaking a smile. "Welcome aboard sir."

"Privilege to be here Colonel." Belzen smiled back, turning to the honor guard. "Stand easy."

The cadre of Marines shifted stance simultaneously, the stamp of boots ringing in the closed hangar.

"It's my intention to address the ship and inspect each department in turn before the end of today. I'm impressed by what I've seen so far, you are a credit to the fleet. Dismissed and return to your duties, we'll speak a little later."

The Marines began to disperse as Belzen turned for the armored doors leading to the rest of his new ship. It hadn't quite impacted yet, but it was slowly filling him with a joy of purpose as he rolled the words around in his head a few times. His ship.

"Colonel, walk with me."

The tall woman fell into step, her movement precise and controlled as she joined to commander stepping into the faintly blue hued corridors of the warship.

"First time on a _Valkyrie_ sir?" She asked.

"First time." Belzen agreed. "I've memorized the deck plans but if I lead us into a dead end try not to laugh."

"Aye sir." Bless broke a smile. "I understand you were Admiral Cain's second in command?"

"I was, and all the stories you've heard about her? Completely true." He said. "But also incomplete, she's as hard as they say but has a real loyalty to her crew and duty."

"Must be in her blood sir, she has a famous name."

"Lot of people say she only got the _Pegasus_ due to her grandfather." Belzen nodded. "But while her appointment to _Pegasus_ was probably a PR stunt, she did earn her command, and I've learned a lot from her."

"I'd like to meet her one day sir." Bless stated. "I respect someone who achieves as much as she has in so short a time."

They turned down another corridor walking down the spine of the ship. A _Valkyrie_ was a lot smaller than other ships but it was still a long walk from one section to another.

"How is the _Perseus_ doing Colonel?" Belzen asked. "Did she pass her trials alright?"

"With flying colors sir." Bless answered. "No hitches or hiccups, ship and crew and fully qualified for Fleet service."

"I didn't doubt it." Belzen nodded.

"She's the newest ship in the fleet, some rooms you can still smell the paint." The Colonel informed with amusement. "Her crew is also a little on the young side, I'd have expected more of the department heads to be long service personnel but virtually all of them are here on their first promotion."

"You think they're a little green Colonel?"

"I think they're inexperienced, but I also think they are among the smartest and most devoted officers and crew in the Colonies." Bless stated honestly. "What they lack in fleet time they make up for with excellent test scores."

"Sounds like command has given us plenty of raw material and expects us to shape it into the finished product."

"At which point they'll probably steal our best officers for other posts." Bless chuckled harshly. "Life in the Fleet sir."

Belzen could only nod in agreement; the higher ups did have a habit of plucking the cream of the crop from lesser ships to staff their command vessels. It was voluntary of course but few officers passed up the chance for promotion, Belzen himself had done the exact same thing when Cain needed a new XO. Now he was on the losing end of the equation he had no place to complain.

"So how do you like those new chevrons Colonel?" Belzen changed his tune. "Looks like you've settled into your new rank just fine."

"It was a lot of work, more than I expected to be honest." She answered. "Looking after a ship this big is quite the job, I can't imagine how you handle a ship as big as the _Pegasus_."

"Delegation." Belzen joked. "You come very highly recommended Colonel; I understand you were Principal Weapons Officer on the _Atlantia_?"

"Yes sir, apparently I was handpicked by Admiral Nagala from over a hundred applicants."

"Competition for a post on the _Atlantia_ is as tough as _Pegasus_." Belzen agreed. "And a bridge posting even more so. You must have really impressed the Admiral."

"Modesty prevents me from cheering and dancing sir." Bless grinned. "I just put in the time and effort and trust someone notices it."

"Looks like it worked."

"I was born on Aerilon sir to a very poor family; I had no chance to go to university, far too expensive." Bless informed. "So I joined the military in the hope my commitment and hard work would get me where money couldn't. I'm glad to say it's one of the few professions where hard work and talent are still recognized over connections."

"Sometimes that's the case Colonel, other times maybe not." Belzen allowed. "But at least out here far from head quarters you can be sure talent is the only thing that counts. I'm expecting great things from you Colonel."

"And I'm expecting to deliver sir."

They made it to his quarters, the automatic doors sliding open as he activated the controls. Unlike older ships ninety percent of the Perseus' doors and airlocks were fully automated, controlled by a mixture of control panels and internal sensors. It had generated quite some concern as the third generation Battlestars were in their design phase and had included heavy networking, something which had been shunned completely in the past.

Originally all Battlestars had been networked; the first generation had gone into action armed with the cutting edge of Colonial technology including full data links and the sort of processing power unheard of even in the glory days before the war. Given the investment of time and money into the designs the fleet wanted to make damn sure its new flagships could function as such, monitoring and commanding warships across vast distances.

The problem was the technology used in those ships was identical to the base technology of the Cylons, it was made by the same corporations in the same way, often in the same factories that the original Cylons had been built in which meant the robotic super minds knew the fundamentals of the Colonial computer systems better than their owners did. With their even more monstrous processing cores the 'Lucifer' series science robots rapidly found ways to hack the systems turning the networking against itself.

The Colonials lost two Battlestars in their second engagement as the Cylons automatically vented their atmospheres, and nearly lost _Galactica_ if not for Commander Nash effectively pulling the plug and fighting his ship with its backup systems the old fashioned way. While the two lost ships were recovered the loss of elite crews was a serious setback and forced the fleet to pull the advanced systems and replace them with incredibly basic non-networked internals.

For the rest of the war the Colonials focused on function ahead of advancement, getting the most out of simple systems instead of getting into a tech race with the Cylons who would probably win. The Battlestars were perfect examples of this, with their telephone lines, isolated wireless sets and manually locking doors. It worked well, keeping all systems accessible only by the crew and forced the Cylons to try and board ships in order to vent their air and capture them for their own use.

After the war the second generation of Battlestars kept to the same theory, but at the same time Colonial science experienced a renaissance, pushing forward with alternate paths of computer research and developing massively powerful but heavily restricted machines that could crunch numbers on a grand scale but nothing else. While reception of these computers was wary in most quarters the fleet took the decisive step of installing these new computers and bringing back networking to the third generation of warships, led by the _Mercury_ class.

It was a risk, but prominent scientists argued that Cylon and Colonial technology had diverged during the war and that the Cylons would no longer have the blue prints to Colonial information systems, therefore any attempts to hack into modern warships would be virtually impossible, even with their artificial intelligence the latest Colonial computers while comparatively very simple in design had massive processing power, enough to keep the Cylons occupied while the Fleet blew them to hell.

The Admiralty embraced it despite opposition from the old guard, the Cylon War admirals objections growing ever less as they retired or passed on. The ability to coordinate forces in real time and reduce crew workloads was deemed a suitable pay off for the risk, fitting with the Admiralty's doctrine of extreme aggression in any future war to make sure the battles remained in Cylon space, not Colonial space.

The horrors of the last Cylon war still colored everything; almost every aspect of military doctrine was based on avoiding the grinding war of attrition which had caused so much death and destruction in the past. It was imperative that any war be fought in Cylon space, and as there was no reliable form of defense to keep the Cylons out the only option was to attack with such intensity that the Cylons would be forced to deploy all their forces to defend their territory against the Colonials. Any collateral damage would be to Cylon targets, any civilian deaths would be Cylon civilians, if such a thing existed. Every ship, every fighter, every training regime and war game emphasized that scenario above all else. As Admiral Gregori Cain had famously stated before the Battle of Caprica, one does not win a war by dying for your planet, but by making the other son of a bitch die for his.

Anything that gave the fleet an advantage was welcomed, including networking. Colonial ships were built to operate far from home, to survive for years with minimal supplies as they might have to if operating deep in Cylon space. Colonial fighters were optimized for dog fighting, sacrificing anti ship abilities for speed and agility, their role being to simply support the capital ships by clearing the sky of the expected swarms of Cylon Raiders. The Colonial Army was highly mobile, its armored vehicles sized to fit the latest generation of landing craft and its troops given extensive training for planetary assaults.

The extremely aggressive outlook had concerned some commentators who argued the Colonies should be more passive, that if the Cylons saw the way the fleet was leaning they might get very nervous, but such comments tended to fall on deaf ears. Preparation was the key belief of the Colonial Joint Chiefs; if the war started tomorrow the entire Colonial military machine would swing into action in less than an hour. It was a source of great pride for the military, and given the nature of stellar warfare and FTL drives a necessity.

Once it began, and many senior leaders believed a Second Cylon War was only a matter of time, it would be all or nothing. The Admiralty would hold nothing back, no navel gazing or debating strategy or ethics, if it happened they would launch a massive sustained offensive over the Armistice Line and support it indefinitely. It was what they were trained for, set up for, equipped for, and what they were ready for.

Belzen was now a key part of that machine, indeed his posting put him on the cutting edge. In any war the _Valkyries_ would be first in action, leading the offensive and seeking targets while the larger warships repulsed any initial Cylon moves on the Colonies themselves. He was too young to remember the last Cylon war, but like most people his age his father and mother had both served Scorpia in the Marine Corps, as had his grandparents in the Fleet. Belzen liked to think he'd inherited his leadership skills from his grandparents and his adventurer's streak from his mom and dad, allowing him to rise further in the ranks than either. It was a great combination.

"Not a bad room." Belzen approved. "Bigger than I expected."

His quarters were divided into two compartments, immediately on the other side of the door was his office space dominated by a desk, several stacks of bookshelves holding volumes of fleet regulations, procedures and command protocols along with a safe for his more sensitive information and plenty of space for personal items. Behind his desk was a second door leading to his sleeping quarters containing a small bed and adjoining shower and bathroom.

"We already received your effects sir." Bless gestured to two bags beside his desk. "And a transmission from Admiral Cain which was sent in the clear. The contents were a little fruity sir."

Belzen laughed at the comment. "She has a pretty wicked sense of humor!"

He walked over to his desk and read through the note, grinning widely the whole time.

"She should try to remember I'm a family man!"

"Yes sir, half of that stuff is against regulations, the other half is against every standard of decency in civilization." Bless smiled. "I didn't expect an Admiral to know that sort of language."

"She liked keeping me on my toes." Belzen nodded fondly. "But it's all a joke; everyone on the Beast knew she wasn't interested in guys anyway."

"Oh?" Bless returned, then widened her eyes in understanding. "…Oh."

"Besides, it's against regulations for a Commanding Officer to order all crew to remove their clothing and do what she suggests. And frankly a little creepy." Belzen grinned. "Why don't we get this show on the road and just erase this conversation from our memories."

"Gladly sir." Bless nodded. "Department heads are standing by, if you're ready to go without settling first?"

"Let's do it while I'm on my feet." Belzen confirmed. "Lead on Colonel."

Their route took them from the back of the ship right to the front, starting in engineering. While the main engine room was actually in the centre of the ship the network of engines and reactors covered so much volume there was nothing else beyond it, just access ways and storage tanks.

The two senior officers entered the engine control room, a large square space with several banks of consoles manned by two dozen operators, each console displaying varied information regarding pressure, volumes and rates of consumption, all of which was vaguely familiar but also distant to Belzen. He had made a specific effort to be familiar with the work of each ship board department on a Battlestar and what they did, but even so a lot of what went on was too technical to be easily picked up.

"Commander, this is Major Jean Keyes, our Chief Engineering Officer." Colonel Bless introduced a relatively mature woman who contrary to popular image didn't have a spot of dirt on her.

"Afternoon sir." She greeted Belzen.

"Major." He shook hands. "This room is spotless, my compliments."

"Thank you sir, on a ship like this there isn't a whole lot of dirt up here. Most of that gathers in the access ways and crawl spaces." Keyes informed. "The main reactor rooms and power converters are spotless."

"What's your status Major? Everything in order?"

"Aye sir, we have six primary reactors and four secondary's widely spaced for survivability. Our reactant tanks are full, cargo bays packed and engines fully operational."

"How did you do on trials Major? Anything to be concerned about?"

"We had to replace some conduits from one of the reactors, they were functional but frayed, some shoddy second hand crap…pardon my Gemonese sir."

"For a new ship that's a pretty tiny flaw." Belzen commented.

"Yes sir, she was bolted together on Picon. They know how to build ships on Picon sir."

"Let me guess, your homeworld?" Belzen smiled.

"Yes sir." Keyes chuckled along. "We managed to break the class record on the Caprican Lunar run, _Perseus_ is the fastest Battlestar in the fleet, hell we can outrun anything except attack destroyers."

"I'll be looking to put that speed to the test Major. FTL?"

"Primed and ready."

"Outstanding Major, I look forward to putting this ship through her paces."

They departed the engine room and took a turn to the air wing ready room, the four squadrons of Vipers and two of Raptors representing a small put powerful organic air group. While not carrying the swarms of aircraft a bigger ship could, she still had the ability to deploy four squadrons and was still a serious threat to attackers giving the _Perseus_ extra flexibility in its roles. The Commander, Air Group was another woman going by the slightly pretentious name of Niobe Emerald Veron, a relatively young captain at twenty six and like many of the _Perseus_ crew newly promoted to her responsibilities. She was ridiculously attractive, richly tanned with dark wavy hair tied up according to regulations but still with some panache to it. Her large dark eyes and meticulously shaped eyebrows told Belzen she not only knew she was pretty but was well versed in getting the most out of her looks. It made him a little wary; vanity wasn't something to be encouraged in an officer, especially one in such a position of responsibility.

"Captain Veron." Belzen strode through the pilot briefing room, the six squadron crests of the air wing new and gleaming on the wall, two Raptor units and four Viper units. Each chair was still gleaming, some were still wrapped in plastic having never been used and the pilot roster boards were clean and empty.

"Sir." Veron acknowledged. "Honor to be here sir."

"If I remember your file I understand you've had some trouble in the past, several unsatisfactory command reviews." Belzen addressed, closely watching the officer's reaction.

"Yes sir, I can't deny it." Veron said clearly and up front. "In the past there have been people who took exception to me for personal reasons."

"What personal reasons?"

"A number of female squad mates were threatened by my beauty sir."

"Is that what it was?" Belzen raised an eyebrow. "Your superiors seemed to think it was because you weren't much of a team player."

"Sir, any break down of team relations was as much the fault of others as myself, sir."

"That may be Captain, but I see it resulted in several transfers to new squadrons, where these problems recurred. You're telling me it's just coincidence that wherever you go discord follows?"

"Sir, I...errr… I accept I have a role to play sir."

Belzen nodded slowly, weighing up the officer.

"Apparently these disagreements are fairly minor, personality clashes it seems and I'm glad to see they never affected your flight record, which is why you are here Captain. You have the skills to be a good CAG, but you need to be mindful of how you come across. Might not be intentional Captain, but you seem to rub some people up the wrong way."

"That is certainly not my intention sir."

"As CAG it is one hundred percent your responsibility to ensure the smooth operation of this air wing. You were promoted for a reason Captain; someone obviously has faith in you, so I expect you to discharge your duty to perfection. No bumps, no hiccups, no bad blood. That sort of thing causes cracks, cracks cause doubts, doubts cause hesitations, hesitations get people killed. Understood Captain?"

"Perfectly sir."

"I think you'll do good." Belzen softened with a smile. "Treat this as an opportunity to shine; to prove to yourself you are in the right place. You have my confidence Captain."

"Thank you sir." She answered, allowing a bit of a smile to grace her eyes. "For the opportunity."

"So tell me about your pilots."

"They're good kids sir, but kids are what they are." She answered, not missing the irony that she herself was rather on the young side. "Maybe ten percent have been on a warship before, the rest are from planet side squadrons on their first deployment."

"How are they settling in?"

"Very well sir, they're eager for some intense training. Couple of tube launches will knock some sense into them."

"Alright then. Set up your team rotation, I want one full squadron on standby at all times, with a constant six ship CAP and six more at Alert Five status." Belzen ordered, meaning they should be ready to launch within five minutes of the order going out.

"I will do sir."

"Then I'll leave you to your work Captain, I'll expect to see the schedule at the end of the Watch."

He joined Bless at the second exit to the briefing room leading directly out into the port side flight pod, the hangar deck still pristinely white and grey with bold red stripes along the length of the aircraft handling bay.

"CAG is damn pretty." Belzen mentioned. "Didn't expect that."

"Scuttlebutt says she was a model before she joined up, bit of a racy model." Colonel Bless informed. "She's got a chip on her shoulder about not making it big; I reckon that's why she gets into catfights."

"How did she make CAG?"

"She was frakking one of the promotion board." Bless said. "Probably more than one."

"Great." The Commander exhaled. "Think she can hack it?"

"She's a good pilot; she just lacks some people skills, which is a big part of the CAG job." Bless shrugged. "I don't know sir; the responsibility might force her to get a grip. On the other hand she might break the team as the girls hate her and the guys try to bed her. Good luck with that sir."

"You're a great help."

"Yes sir." Bless grinned. "That's my job."

The hangar was incredibly uncluttered, the gleaming fighters arranged neatly in their alcoves with the ground crews keeping themselves busy polishing them or scrubbing the floors. On deployment they'd likely be hard at work fixing the myriad of minor problems that came with operating extremely complicated precision fighting machines, but for now the hardest job was finding something to fill the time between shift changes.

Overseeing operations, such as they were, was Captain Terry Endo, the _Perseus_ Flight Deck Controller and officer with overall responsibility for keeping the planes turned around and ready to fly. He was a broad Gemonese man, his very dark skin and bald head signaling his origin from close to the equator. He was older than most of the crew, in his forties perhaps, and had a confident manner about him as he saluted the approaching officers.

"Captain Endo." Belzen continued his rounds, answering the salute. "This deck is spotless."

"Thank you sir, they say Hades makes work for idle hands, so best keep my folks employed doing something."

"Your record says you're new to the fleet Captain, but with respect, you don't look like a fresh recruit."

Endo grinned widely. "No sir, I joined up a couple of years ago after a divorce. It got pretty messy, left me with a whole lot of anger and not much else. I thought the military might clear my head."

"Is it working?"

"It keeps me millions of miles from Gemenon so yeah, it's going well."

"No offence but I thought divorce was looked down on by the Gemonese?"

"It is, what the gods unite let no man tear asunder." Endo quoted. "But my wife was Libran, and you know what the Libran courts are like. She got her divorce and I couldn't show my face in work again."

"What did you do before joining up?"

"I was a flight traffic controller for Union Colonial Liners." Endo laughed. "I leave one job directing traffic and end up doing exactly the same thing here, just with a better uniform and a terrible paycheck!"

"Must be destiny." Belzen sympathized. "How are things on deck?"

"We're ready sir. All aircraft are loaded and confirmed operationally. They're brand new, Viper Seven-C's, must be just about the last batch before production switches fully to Seven-E's."

"I've heard good things about the E- series, improved agility and endurance." Belzen recalled.

"The E's are better in an atmosphere but the C's are still top of the line, in space there's virtually no difference." Endo informed. "Plus they're more familiar to ground crews."

"How many do we have?"

"Fifty four sir, four squadrons of twelve plus six spares in case we have any accidents or write off's." The Flight Officer answered. "We also have twenty Raptors complete with gunship kits if we need them."

"How about stores?"

"We have enough fuel and munitions for four months of war operations, a lot longer at peacetime levels. We also have a small refinery and munitions facility on board to make more fighter fuel and ammunition if necessary, but we'd need some raw materials which we don't have."

"I don't think we'll be out long enough for that to be a worry." Belzen assured. "How are your people?"

"They're good sir, greenhorns for the most part but they've got their qualifications. I'll have them dragging knuckles before the end of the week."

"We'll be beginning flight operations immediately, running combat drills for the next week at least." Belzen advised. "Think you're people are up to it?"

"Yes sir, I'll make 'em up to it."

"Music to my ears Captain, we'll speak more later."

"Two more stops sir." Bless led him off the flight deck and back into the blue lit heavily braced halls of the warship. "Gunnery and CIC."

"I can catch up with the rest later, sickbay, the galley, random inspections of a couple of crew quarters. It can wait until we're under way."

"Aye sir." Bless affirmed, heading deeper into the ship. "There's also the waste reclamation hub."

"Might just take your word on that." Belzen twitched an eyebrow. "You're not lacking in confidence Colonel, glad to see that."

"Thank you sir, I believe that it's my job to speak frankly at all times to all people."

"It's what I want in an XO, someone who'll offer alternatives and examine my every decision for flaws." The Commander said as he turned deeper into the ship. "I want a critic, not a kiss ass, and I think that's exactly what you are Colonel, among other things."

"I don't suffer fools sir." She returned. "Even the pretty ones."

"Little worried about some of our crew?" Belzen wondered. "Our CAG maybe?"

"One example sir, but I've read the files for every person on this ship and Captain Veron is not unique. A good third of them have some sort of reprimand in their records, nothing criminal, but it's a blemish. The other third have nothing in their records because they've only just joined the service. Sir, if I had to give you a hard figure I'd say perhaps ten percent of the crew actually have experience enough to be in their posts. The others have the grades and the test scores but have never faced a real challenge."

"New ship and a new crew then." Belzen considered. "Before taking this position I was told this ship would have some of the brightest and best in the Fleet."

"And on paper it does sir, if all you want is test scores and potential." Bless responded. "But I think we both know you need to temper raw potential with experience to create a truly first rate crew. There's no other ship in the fleet with this percentage of untested crew sir, if you want my honest opinion I think we're going to have a hell of a time getting them to work as a team."

"Well we better get it done fast, we're being deployed in two weeks on a mission."

"We should be fit for a patrol sir, few stops and searches might boost morale and confidence."

"We won't be on a patrol." Belzen returned. "I can't say more yet, but we need to get this crew in shape fast."

They stepped into a lift, taking a brief journey even deeper into the ship.

"With all due respect sir, is the Admiralty high?" Bless demanded.

"I've heard rumors about their days in the Academy." Belzen quipped. "Joke Colonel."

"Sums up the situation quite well sir." Bless shot back. "Any ship with a large percentage of new recruits runs inner system patrols for a few months until the nuggets get used to ship board operations. Usually they start on escorts or cruisers before transferring to a Battlestar, so I was kind of surprised to see so many on a capital ship, but now you're telling me we're not even going to have a decent shakedown cruise?"

"We are having a shake down. Two weeks Colonel."

"If we had an experienced crew who had served on Battlestars before I'd say fine, I wouldn't like it but fine. But sir, half of these kids don't know their arses from their elbows. The Admiralty is treating us like a veteran ship with an experienced crew, we're no such thing."

The lift stopped.

"Then we better learn to be." Belzen issued the ultimatum. "And fast."

"Commander, what's our mission?"

"I can't tell you yet Colonel, only that we're heading out beyond the Colonial border into unexplored space."

"Frak me." Bless exhaled. "Frak me."

"That'd be against regulations Colonel."

"I get it now. I see what they did." Bless shook her head. "We're expendable. Well qualified so we have a chance to handle any trouble, decent ship, but if we vanish into thin air the Fleet doesn't lose anyone really valuable. They don't lose experience, just a ship full of nuggets. Frak me!"

"Welcome to the Fleet Colonel. We're all just numbers on a page, didn't you get the memo?"

"Must have filed it under 'denial' sir."

Belzen broke a bit of a laugh. "I have every intention of bringing us back. You have a family Colonel?"

"Two brothers and a sister, plus parents and distant relatives galore."

"No kids?"

"No sir."

"Well I have a wife and daughter and I'll be home to see them both again." Belzen dedicated himself. "Whatever the mission goals, that is my goal, and I will deliver the same for every man and woman on this tug."

Bless took a moment to weigh up his sincerity, and then nodded. "Alright sir, we'll turn this ship into the pride of the Fleet."

"So say we all, now let's see what this girl is packing."

The central gunnery room was a surprisingly narrow long chamber in the heart of the ship lined with banks of screens and inflowing data. Sixty crew worked in here at full readiness, each monitoring a particular section of the ship and the weapons it held. Most of the ship was clean and boasted the cutting edge of technology, but the gunnery room was the best expression of this looking more like a computer lab than a working military division.

"Commander, this is Gunnery Captain San Chen." Colonel Bless dragged over yet another fresh faced young man, slightly nervous in the face of his new commanding officer."

"Captain." Belzen greeted him plainly, hiding no intentions. "This is a lot like the _Pegasus_ gunnery deck, but smaller."

"Y...Yes sir." Chen stuttered. "The _Perseus_ has the latest Fox Dash DRADIS controls sir, fully integrated sensors, data links and target acquisition. Almost everything is fully automated, we just need to set in target parameters, prioritize enemies if necessary, and the computer does the rest."

"All automatic." Belzen grimaced slightly. "Is that why your gunnery scores are so low?"

"Sir?"

"I checked the performance reviews before coming aboard Captain; your accuracy is seventy three percent. Fleet average is eighty."

"Yes sir, I... I have no excuse sir."

Belzen accepted the statement. "Problem is Captain, computers don't get it right all the time, they're predictable, your targets usually aren't. Sometimes you have to adjust the firing solutions manually, hold fire until the right moment, and use a little instinct and insight. Something no computer has, you follow me Captain?"

"Yes sir."

"This isn't a big ship Captain, we're tough but we can't take the sort of punishment a _Mercury_ could. Our best defense is to shoot down threats before they can engage us, we are very well armed for that task, we've got more guns per square meter of hull than any other ship in the fleet for exactly that reason. Unfortunately, if we keep missing it kinda defeats the point."

"I understand sir."

"The Fleet target is eighty percent, _Pegasus_ usually averaged ninety." Belzen spoke. "I'm setting our target at ninety five percent accuracy."

"Ninety five sir?" Chen spluttered.

"Ninety five Captain. A ship like this with its latest sensors and high scoring gunners should have no trouble."

"Sir, our scores were all made on simulators."

"Now you get a chance to do it for real." Belzen pointed to a patch of wall. "I want the Fleet Gunnery Trophy on that wall Captain. We're already the fastest ship in the Fleet; I want us to be the most lethal too. Are you ready for that challenge Captain?"

"Yes sir." He answered simply.

"If it all goes to hell, you people are our best defense. Don't frak up."

He took a look around the room, getting a feel for the new systems. He was a little wary of so much automation especially in such a vital system, but if the designers were right it would give his ship enviable lethality against any predicted opponent.

"How good is this system then Captain?" He asked.

"We can track and engage over two thousand contacts simultaneously sir, and engage them all if required, allocating each gun a cluster of enemies to fire upon."

"Not bad, reaction times?"

"From contact to engaging, three point two seconds."

"What sort of weaponry are we packing?"

"We have seventy eight kinetic cannons sir, standard caliber thirty five inch recoil dampened guns in twin turrets arranged across the ship. They're the latest naval artillery design sir, smaller caliber than those used on bigger Battlestars but with a higher muzzle velocity."

"Making them superior armor piercing weapons." Belzen rationalized.

"Yes sir, the shells aren't as big so we can't fire the same heavy weight flak rounds as a larger ship, though we make up for it with superior rate of fire. We also have thirty two eighteen inch cannons again in twin turrets optimized for closer range work."

"Point defenses?"

"Three hundred and twenty forty millimeter chain guns firing standard proximity fused shrapnel rounds."

"Missiles?"

"We have twenty four two hundred kiloton anti ship missiles in the magazine sir, plus eight strategic missiles rated at five hundred megatons each. We can fire them from six vertical launch silos sir." Chen said. "We also have standard tandem warhead anti ship and anti fighter missiles which can be fired from our main guns. Easier than having dedicated missile tubes sir."

"Ammunition?"

"Enough for about four months of war operations assuming no resupply or fresh rounds from our onboard munitions factory. Standard mix of armor piercing, flak, high explosive and extended range rounds. We also have three hundred rounds with five kiloton tactical nuclear warheads, for emergencies."

"That's a lot of nukes Captain." Belzen frowned.

"Yes sir, they were delivered on express orders from Admiral Nagala, I didn't ask why."

Bless raised an eyebrow. "Think he knows something we don't?" She asked quietly.

"Let's hope not." Belzen said in response. "That's all for now Captain, but we will be conducting extensive trials in the immediate future. I expect a significant improvement from this department."

"You'll get it sir, we'll get the most out of this ship sir."

"See that you do Captain. Colonel, with me."

The two officers sealed the door behind them, the fair haired Colonel clearly attempting to suppress her growing concern with the future being laid before them.

"Go on Colonel, say it." Belzen waited.

"Nobody flies with that many nukes in peace time. Not even flagships." Bless spoke sternly. "Five hundred megaton missiles? That's what? Four stage? Five stage fusion device? Nobody has ever deployed those operationally before. I thought they were still theoretical!"

"I have a feeling if we fully review Viper ordnance we'll find a lot more tactical nukes there." Belzen remarked. "Command really wants us to punch above our weight."

"Which makes it sound like we're going to end up in the fight of our lives." The Colonel responded. "The _Atlantia_ didn't have that level of firepower and she's the biggest ship in the Navy! We can kill Caprica single handed! We can…" She immediately broke off, her eyes widening in horror. "Oh by Andraste's sword, no way…"

"Colonel?"

"Sir, I understand if you cannot answer, but is this ship being sent on a pre-emptive attack against the Cylon homeworld?"

"Given what we've seen so far I can understand how you came to that conclusion."

"We're armed with excessive firepower, top of the line warship, skilled but expendable crew." She considered grimly. "Enough skill and firepower to get us in, but if we don't make it out it's an acceptable loss. Suicide mission."

"Happily Colonel I can tell you we're not going after the Cylon homeworld, matter of fact we're heading in the opposite direction to Cylon space."

"Well thank the gods for that."

"We'll be nowhere near the Armistice Line, though I suppose there is the chance we may run into trouble on our mission. We're going to be a long way from home with no reinforcements; I presume Command just wants to be very sure we can look after ourselves."

"Makes sense sir, I mean we don't know how big Cylon space is. It could surround us for all we know."

"Probably one of the things we'll be looking out for as a secondary objective."

With a bit of a sigh she set off walking again, escorting the new commander to the nearest lift.

"I'll be happier when we know what we're facing."

"Operational Security." Belzen shrugged apologetically. "There's probably stuff they haven't told me yet too. Need to know and all that."

"Always the way I suppose sir." She accepted with an edge of disgruntlement. "The guys up top must get a kick out of keeping us in the dark. They were the kids who used to yell 'I know something you don't know!' In the playground."

Belzen smiled widely. "All in good time I'm sure."

"Yes sir, it's just, well, you know."

"That this still sounds like a one way trip?" Belzen asked. "First thing I thought when they told me it, they offered me own ship to sweeten the deal of course, but I was still very close to refusing."

"What changed your mind?"

"Two things, first I heard about what else was being committed and figured Command wouldn't risk losing all that on a mission they didn't think had a strong chance of succeeding."

"And second?"

"Admiral Cain promised to bitch slap the entire Admiralty if it was a set up. She wasn't joking either; I can actually see her walking up to Nagala and beating him until he cries."

"Glad she's on our side." Bless concluded.

"So say we all."

The Combat Information Centre for the _Perseus_ reflected the current design ethic of the Colonial Fleet; it was clean and burnished with tall glass screen doors separating the nerve centre from the rest of the ship. Within the room was divided into two main regions, the command half where the senior officers ran the ship dominated by a large tactical table display and inward facing consoles and behind tem the operations half with its rows of computers manned by an assortment of specialists. The officers made the decisions based on the information passed on by the specialists, who then acted on or distributed any resulting orders from the command staff.

"Stand to." Bless commanded, the entire command staff snapping to attention with impressive precision. "Commander on deck!"

"As you were." Belzen acknowledged, stepping up to the tactical table and resting his hands on it, leaning over to see the familiar layout of the Scorpia line and the green icons of friendly ships and squadrons. He observed for a few moments, wondering if this was the sort of view the gods had all the time, seeing the great works of man like insignificant dots in a greater universe, before shaking away such abstract thoughts.

"Our space looks clear." He announced. "Anything in our sector?"

"No sir, all tracks are maintaining safe distance beyond our exclusion zone."

"Lieutenant Joshua Prentice, DRADIS officer." Colonel Bless informed.

"Lieutenant." Belzen gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "How are our eyes and ears?"

"Sir, _Perseus_ has the latest phased DRADIS arrays giving us redundant coverage from all angles. Nothing is going to be sneaking up on us Commander."

"I'd be careful being so confident Mr. Prentice." Belzen cautioned. "We may have the best eyes in the fleet but potential enemies won't announce themselves. They may disguise themselves, use cover to try and get close to us, and play dead. I've seen plenty of smugglers hide in plain sight, seeing them isn't the problem, identifying them as something hostile is."

"Yes sir, I understand sir."

"First posting?"

"Matter of fact, yes sir. First active posting."

"Heard a lot of that today." The Commander reassured. "Stick to your training and it'll be fine."

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

"Our main problem is that we move at faster than light speeds, but can only see at light speed." Belzen spoke. "We could have anything jump out on top of us at anytime. We may have only seconds to react, and as sensor officer you are the first link. It's a lot of pressure and I'm sorry to put it on you at this early stage of your career, but I have faith in your abilities Lieutenant, that's why you're here."

"I'll do everything in my power sir, even if it means rolling down a window and looking out."

"Good spirit." Belzen smiled widely. "Man your station."

The Commander moved on, halting next to the helm console, its gleaming controls manned by an equally gleaming female officer with rich mocha colored skin and almost black eyes.

"Sir, Lieutenant Maria Juarez, helm and navigation." She pre-empted his question.

"Alright Lieutenant, how are we?"

"All systems in the green sir, main and secondary drives available, jump systems on ready standby."

"How long to execute a jump?"

"Within the redline, approximately three minutes to any colony."

"Not good enough Lieutenant, I want it down to less than twenty seconds."

The bright officer dimmed a little. "Sir, the computer can't calculate the coordinates that quickly."

"Which is why you input the coordinates for every rally point and staging area for every colony in advance, and just select the one you want." Belzen stated. "Keep them updated, correct for our changing course, and be ready to upload and initiate jump instantly."

"I'll begin working it out at once."

"Reaction time is everything, like I told Mr. Prentice battles are won and lost in less than thirty seconds. You know your history, the Battle of Cimtar?"

"Admiral Cain jumped in four Battlestars and routed a Cylon fleet twice his size in less than five minutes."

"Surprise, position and impact. The Cylons didn't react fast enough and paid for it." Belzen confirmed. "Speed is everything, be ready Lieutenant and we'll be the ones celebrating."

He strolled across to the final station, nodding to the young man standing stiffly behind his screens.

"Communications?" Belzen checked.

"Yes sir, Lieutenant Corey Manson, assigned from the _Odyssey_ sir."

"A fine old ship, retired from service last year wasn't she?"

"Aye sir, last of the old _Argo_ class destroyers to hit mothballs. Quite the warhorse sir."

"Almost as old as _Galactica_." The Commander recalled. "How's serving on the newest ship in the fleet? Comfortable with the changes?"

"Yes sir, the systems are more complex but more user friendly."

"Anything I need to know?"

"Usual fleet traffic and reports. There was a collision over Gemenon, two ore freighters, but the _Garuda_ is on site providing assistance."

"Anything for us?"

"No sir."

"Then we can proceed with our orders. Standby your station and patch my station throughout the ship."

"Aye sir."

Belzen took his post, standing over the table and its illuminated surface, Colonel Bless standing opposite him expectantly.

"She's all yours Commander." She said with a faint intonation of pride. "Where to?"

Belzen smiled, lifting the phone attached to the desk.

"Officers and crew of the _Perseus_, this is the Commander. In a few minutes we will begin our final training operations before this ship officially joins the fleet. These exercises will be hard, you will be pushed to your personal limits and then beyond. You will be tired, you will be hurting, you will be stressed, but you will also succeed. I know what a ship like this can do in the right hands, and you are the right hands. You will prove this and show your qualities to our brothers and sisters.

"This ship is the latest in a long and proud line, we are the first and best defense mankind has in an unfriendly universe. We must be ready at all times for war, to fight our enemies whoever they may be and whenever they might oppose us, and we must not fail, for failure could spell the end of all we know.

"We are the Colonial Fleet, we wear the uniform, we swear the oaths, and each one of you can take pride in what you have achieved, and what you will achieve. We will be the finest ship in this Navy, the best example of what it means to wear the blue and grey.

"Gods willing all we learn here will never need to be used, but if it is then we must have the confidence, the perseverance, and the unshakeable will to do what we must for our worlds and our people. So say we all."

"So say we all!" Echoed the bridge crew in perfect unison.

"Colonel, if you please."

"Aye sir, Mr. Juarez, standby to jump to the live firing range."

"Yes Colonel, spinning up FTL."

"Mr. Manson, all stations, prepare to jump."

"Now hear this, all stations standby to jump, I say again stand by to jump!"

She turned back to Belzen. "Ship ready to jump Commander."

"Helm, initiate jump." Belzen savored his first real order. "Take us out of the school yard."

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

_"Viper Three, hands on approach, one zero five knots."_

"Copy _Galactica_, Viper Three has the ball."

With effortless grace the grey dart slid into position, blinking puffs of propellant from the reaction thrusters making final corrections to put the fighter dead center in relation to the starboard hanger bay of the enormous craft. Red and green blinking lights showed the way, visually guiding the pilot to her landing spot, not that Kara Thrace needed much in the way of assistance.

She flew with a flourish, not content to merely lower the fighter onto the magnetic elevator she lifted the nose and spun the fighter on its tail like a ballerina, curving gently down and dropping the landing gear at the last instant, the magnetic clamps tugging the fighter down with barely a nudge. It demonstrated a unity of pilot and equipment rare even among the highly trained pilots of the Fleet, a natural grace and supreme confidence combined with an ego that kept Lieutenant Thrace as Lieutenant Thrace, and not a more senior officer.

Kara didn't do responsibility, not anymore. She tried that once, going against type and ignoring her instincts. She took a career advancing position as a flight instructor which seemed like a great idea at the time, she met a man who she fell for, and she believed her wild days were past her.

Like everything else she had ever done she frakked it up, she really frakked it up. And now she was here, on the Battlestar _Misfit_ with most of the other people who were out of favor and needed sweeping under the carpet or too loyal to request a post to another ship.

Her fighter was towed into the hanger bay itself where a handful of knuckle draggers casually wandered up and made sure the systems were secure. There was no hurry in the process, but she noted there was quite a few more ground crew standing around than usual. She handed her helmet to Cally with a wink and then jumped down without bothering to use the ladder. She enjoyed making an entrance.

"Welcome back Starbuck, anything new today?" Tyrol walked up, glancing a quick eye over the landed bird without spotting anything to concern him.

"Same old space. Big, empty, cold." She answered running a hand through her short blond locks. "We having a surprise party or something? Why's everyone just hanging around?"

"It might be, scuttlebutt is something's going down."

"Something's always going down." Kara dismissed.

"Yeah but this time it might be for real." Tyrol replied. "Check that out sir, we got a new pilot."

Kara twisted to see a new Viper at the end of the bay, gleaming clean indicating it probably hadn't seen much use. Fresh from the factory.

"Nugget?"

"No sir, one Captain Lee Adama."

She grinned widely. "He's early."

"Last I heard he was warming you up a beer glass in the ward room." Tyrol said with a growing smile.

"Well I better go then, I mean it'd be rude not to. Rude."

"Happy trails Lieutenant." Tyrol nodded, turning back to duty. "Sosinus, did you close the valve before you replace the gun wells?"

Kara left the Chief to his work, it was heavy, strenuous and dirty but she knew he loved it. The Chief worked miracles, if all she had was an engine, a gun and a space suit Tyrol would find a way to get her into the sky shooting things. He was great with his hands, a comment that always made Boomer blush. She was tempted to mention it when she hit the wardroom but Boomer was too easy, teasing her wasn't much of a challenge anymore. It was just funny.

There were a good two dozen pilots in the wardroom when she arrived, the _Galactica_ having taken on a full complement of Vipers for the first time in a decade. Both pods were fully equipped and operational and the ship had received a full quota of new personnel and spares which had surprised pretty much everyone. They were used to cruising up and down the inner worlds in a perpetual state of almost relaxation. Now all of a sudden they were back on full readiness and bustling with activity. It was normal for the Fleet, but a little strange on the Old Lady.

She made her way in, stepping around the busy round tables to grab her beer mug and fill it up at the tap. As the resident top gun and all round hotshot Kara used the ship's special ace pilot tankard, an ornate and abnormally large jug engraved with the names every pilot who had earned it. Kara was the latest, and somewhere near the front was a Lieutenant William Adama.

"Starbuck!" Helo yelled over, pointing at an empty space at his table. "Chair!"

She squeezed past the off duty pilots and joined the gang, Boomer and Crashdown at the other seats. Crashdown was new to the ship recently transferred in from the _Triton_. He hadn't mentioned why he was on _Galactica_ but the current rumor was that he had gotten so badly lost on an exercise they had to send an SAR team after him.

"Hey guys." She dropped jovially down beside the table. "We on for cards tonight?"

"Sure thing, we've even got an extra player." Helo stated.

"Yeah, I heard we had a special guest star." Starbuck grabbed a cigar from her suit pocket, lighting the rolled tobacco. "Where is he?"

"Getting some sleep." Boomer answered.

"I'll go jump on his bed when I'm drunk enough." Kara took a long swig of beer. "I bet he'll love that. He's got a great sense of humor like that."

"Didn't look that jolly to me." Boomer cautioned.

"He looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head." Helo clarified. "There might have been smoke drifting up from his ears."

"Yeah, I figured he wouldn't be thrilled at this assignment." Kara shrugged. "Even if it did mean spending quality time with us most excellent of human beings."

"Why's that?" Boomer asked.

"Long story." Helo said with finality. "Some other time huh?"

"Well well, looky here." A braying voice cawed behind Kara. "It's Starbucky! Shouldn't you be reporting to the CAG before you get down with your drinking buddies?"

Kara pouted behind her cigar, her face bearing a look of resignation.

"Just waiting for word from the Chief Colonel. Can't make my report until Tyrol signs off on my Viper."

Saul Tigh barked a scoff of disdain, glaring down at the blond officer.

"Excuses excuses huh? Got an excuse for everything ain't ya?"

"Yes sir, like I smell of alcohol because I'm holding a jug of beer. What's your reason?" She glanced up. "Sir?"

"Starbuck." Boomer whispered.

"Relax Boomer, like I said I just need the Chief to finish with my plane. You know how good he is at giving the birds a good servicing, am I right?" She beamed, she was weak but she couldn't resist. Boomer immediately reddened.

"Why don't you get on your feet when you talk to a superior officer?" Tigh growled down.

"What superior officer?" Starbuck answered. "I just see a higher ranking one."

"Get on your gods damn feet pilot!" Tigh snarled. "Now!"

Kara slowly got up, drawing it out as long as she could to prolong the frustration.

"Just who the frak do you think you are?"

"I'm Kara Thrace; guess all that Ambrosia does kill brain cells." She quipped back. "For the record you're on the _Galactica_ and your name is Saul Tigh."

"You just love pushing the limits don't you? Do you want to get kicked out of the Fleet? Is that your mission pilot? Because I'm more than ready to give you that kick."

"Is that a new toothpaste? Forty proof?"

"You just don't know when to stop do you?"

"Pretty ironic coming from you, they do have anonymous help groups for people who can't stop. Sir."

"Maybe we should just move your locker to the brig?" Tigh snorted. "Report to the Master-at-Arms Lieutenant, enjoy your night in lock up."

"I hope they've prepared my usual room." Kara grinned at the table. "I'm so attached to the view."

"You're lucky the Old Man takes pity on you." Tigh grunted. "On my ship you'd be painting the hull with a frakkin toothbrush!"

"Would that be the Battlestar _Booze Cruise_ sir?"

"Get the frak out of my sight Starbuck."

"Gods I wish I could."

She saluted, drained her mug, then clamped the cigar between her teeth and grandly marched towards the brig with her head high.

"Why does this look familiar?"

Kara beamed widely, swinging her legs off the bunk as she met her visitor.

"I mean do you even sleep in your own bed anymore?" Lee Adama grinned through the bars.

"Oh man that joke is older than your hair cut." Kara shot back, sticking her tongue between her teeth. "How you been?"

"Not bad, you?"

"Not bad." She nodded.

"So you take another swing at Tigh?"

"Just shared a few home truths." She answered. "How is telling the truth a criminal offence?"

"Must be just your style." Lee chuckled. "Why don't you let it go?"

"Because the man is dangerous, because he's weak, and because he doesn't deserve to wear the uniform that people have bled for." Kara sneered, before breaking a grin. "That cover it?"

"Pretty much." Lee shrugged. "The Old Man trusts him."

"Yeah well, the Old Man's got a soft side."

"It isn't softness." Lee shook his head. "My father doesn't do soft."

"So I guess you two had a little chat huh?"

"Chat might be overstating it a little. Words were said, that about covers it."

"Come on Lee, how long are you going to keep this up for?"

He shot a look at his friend. "I'm not keeping anything up! I'm not the one in the wrong!"

"You can't go on like this."

"Watch me."

"Lee, he's your father!"

"Wait, what the hell is this to you?" Lee growled through the bars. "When did you become peacemaker? This isn't some frakking daytime TV reunion episode! People are dead!"

"And do you think I've forgotten that for one second?" Kara's voice turned hard. "Do you think I'm just dancing through life singing and dancing? You're not the only one who's hurting, I can name two more people on this ship."

"My dad killed Zak. Simple as that."

"No he didn't." Kara said firmly.

"Oh, so who did?"

"He…" She held her tongue. "It wasn't all his fault, you need to accept that."

"I'll accept what I damn well like."

Kara exhaled, standing in annoyed silence for a while.

"Congratulations on making Captain. I'd have been there but…" She held out her arms. "I was taking a little break in Hotel Hack."

"Why are you always in here Kara? I mean don't you care about your career?"

"No Lee, I don't care." She snapped back. "I do not care, all of this is pointless. Responsibility, consequences, frak it all! I take care of myself and hurt anyone who gets closer! Just the way it is Captain Lee Adama, so I live with it!"

"Look Kara, I lost control for a while after Zak…"

"Oh shut the frak up!" Kara laughed harshly. "Don't dare try and fix my life when your own is such a frakking mess! This is who I am, Hack hogging beer puking cigar chewing hot shot with an ego and a death wish! I'm a gigantic frakkin screw up and surprise Lee! So are you!"

She dragged herself to her bunk and dropped into it.

"Joke is you're not supposed to be a screw up, you're just too stubborn to do frak all about it." She sighed. "You don't want to end up like me Lee. Do something about it huh?"

Lee wasn't angry. "What about you, you going to change too?"

"I tried to change, I behaved, I did my job, tried to settle down or something close. Didn't work out too good did it?"

"Kara…"

"I'm done Lee, just go do whatever it is you do and let me sleep off this pissed off feeling I've got."

He nodded in defeat.

"Take it easy Kara; we'll try again tomorrow huh?"

"Yeah, I should be able to fake being happy and wacky by then." She sighed. "All aboard the depression express, next stop noose-ville."

"Goodnight Kara. It is good to see you again."

"Yeah, good to see you too." She admitted. "Goodnight Lee. And Lee, life's short, don't put it off too long."

He paused, then without a further word walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a resounding clunk.

**Caprica**

"Thank you so much for dropping by, really." Gaius Baltar ushered the dark suited man out of his villa with barely disguised haste. "So good of you to make the journey."

"You'll let the Science Ministry know this week?"

"Of course I will." Baltar opened the door for him. "Safe trip home now."

"Thank you Doctor."

"Don't mention it!" He grinned widely as he slammed the door. "Gods, what have I done to deserve this?"

"Would you like a list?"

Baltar exhaled. "No comediennes please."

He turned away from the door and headed back to his lounge, the svelte blonde stunner in her customary red dress who had turned his life on its head gliding elegantly behind him. She was a complete enigma, he didn't even know her name, but she had made his world a far better place.

"It's just typical!" He paced on the pine floors, glaring and gesturing at the lakes and mountains beyond his windows. "Who do they think they are? Who do they think I am? The King of Fools perhaps? High Priest of the Mentalists!"

"They don't think you're a fool Gaius."

"No, they're just giving me this opportunity because they think I'm a perfect representative of humanity." He scoffed. "Please, a mission to search for Kobol? We might as well hunt the Tooth Fairy next!"

"Kobol is a real place Gaius, where do you think we came from?"

"Oh I'm sure it is, and I'm sure it's a jolly pleasant little world, and if the government wants to go find it, great, good for them!" He gestured wildly, flailing his arms. "I wish them luck! But I'll be damned if I'm going with them!"

"You might want to rethink that." The blonde said softly, inching closer.

"This is obviously a ploy to ruin my career." Baltar concluded. "Well I won't fall for it!"

"Not everything is aimed at you Gaius; sometimes you're just part of a greater plan, not the plan itself."

"Thank you Swami Hot Stuff, I'll take those words of wisdom onboard."

Immediately she closed the distance, sweeping to within inches of Baltar's nose, her face suddenly very stern.

"You are part of a plan Gaius, and so am I. It's important you understand this."

"What I understand is that we are getting very close for the initial deliveries of the CNP programme, something which is worth more than a little money to me. Something my professional reputation is rather resting on, and I'd rather like to be here to handle it… not ten thousand light years away chasing myths!"

"Kobol is not a myth."

"Oh good, I presume you have proof for that bold statement."

"It's written in the Scriptures."

Baltar rolled his eyes. "Scriptures, and I thought you were a rational person."

She grabbed him by his shirt, bunching the material in her fists and pushed him against a wall with surprising power.

"I am rational." She kissed him fiercely. "But I am more than that, I am open to belief, I'm not closed minded."

"Kobol is a fairy tale, whatever the grain of truth behind the exodus, if it's still out there its nothing. A waste of time, even assuming we can find it!"

"Kobol is the cradle from which humanity sprang, and all of humanity's creations in turn. It's the birth place of us all, the origin of all known life."

"Alright, so the Scriptures say there was a war, and the survivors fled. There's nothing left there." Baltar shrugged.

"You're wrong." His companion answered. "There are answers, maybe even the answer to the greatest riddle of all time. The Thirteenth Colony."

"Oh come on, even I draw the line there."

She kissed him again. "Why do you still doubt Gaius? Don't you see what this is? Don't you see why it's been given to you?"

"Given to me?"

"It's part of God's plan for you, for us." She kissed him, pressing her lithe form tight against him. "Can't you feel it?"

"I err, certainly feel something."

"You've been given this chance, to see with your own eyes the birthplace of the children of the gods. To walk their streets, examine their history, to learn their secrets."

"I don't care about their secrets."

She smiled widely. "A race that conquered the stars? Who mastered technology we can't even start to duplicate? Are you saying there's nothing you could gain from studying them? Nothing you could bring back…patent?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, when you put it like that."

"Have I ever disappointed you Gaius? Have I ever stopped surprising you?"

"No, that's one thing I won't dispute. Life with you is a constant surprise."

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"Well, when you say wrong…"

She grabbed his hair and sharply tugged his head back.

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"No, no you haven't."

"Then believe that I am right today. Take the mission."

She softened, smiling again. "We'll go together, you'll need my help."

"I'm not sure about this, the project…"

"Can wait a few months, I'm sure all interested parties will accept a slight delay in the face of this tremendous discovery."

"Discovery? We haven't found it yet."

"We will, I have faith we will."

"Faith is an empty promise."

She tutted, stroking his hair. "Poor Gaius, still so parochial. I've opened your mind to new things before today haven't I?"

"No arguments there, some of our experiments have been… well eye opening falls woefully short."

"And I'll keep doing it, as long as it takes, until you are a true child of god, like me."

"I believe what I can see, and what I can touch." He ran a hand down her leg.

"Then I'll take you to Kobol, and let you touch heaven."

"Why wait until Kobol?"

"So we're going then?"

"Well…well alright then, but only because there's a practical reason. The acquisition of lost technology and answering some of the questions of origin."

She smiled widely. "Good choice Gaius, you're not going to regret it."

"As leader of the scientific team any discovery will have my name on it." He grinned. "…And yours too of course, not that I ever caught it."

"Because I never threw it." She replied simply.

"Your choice." He shrugged. "Though I'll reserve my enthusiasm for if we find it.

"When Gaius, when."

"Of course, when." He indulged. "This had better be worth my time."

"It will be." She answered with a kiss. "Both our backers are going to find this discovery very, very interesting."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Caprica City  
Caprica****  
**

A beautiful woman wearing bikinis stood in a waterfall amid intense greenery and brightly colored flowers. Her flowing hair and buxom beauty made many who saw her think of Aphrodite. She drank from an energy drink can while water splashed all over her body. The sound of a lion roaring came over the scene and a voice said, "Roar like a lion with Leonis Red!"

The unseen lion roared again and the scene changed into that of a lion standing on a hilltop, roaring with the sun rising behind him. Then everything changed into a stylized golden passant lion holding a curved sword and a golden sunburst behind it, with a red background.

Anthem Cyrus gave the commercial in a tiny telescreen only a passing glance. The telescreen was in the back of a seat in front of him, like all the other seats in the large atmospheric shuttle docked in the busy Bay Quay Terminal of the Caprica City Spaceport. The glance, though, was enough for Anthem to idly think of the history behind the Lion and Sun of Leonis, which was once displayed in the old royal crest of Leonis. In ancient astrological terms, the sign meant the sun was in the house of Leo.

The archaeo-anthropologist, before sitting in his assigned seat, checked to make sure that his suitcase was secured in an overhead bulkhead. Once seated, Anthem looked out the port windows running along both sides of the atmospheric shuttle. On his side of the aisle, he could see one of the docked passenger liners, smaller than the huge whale-shaped liners that landed and took off at terminals on artificial islands out in the bay. The liner's name COLONIAL HEAVY 789 was stenciled underneath INTERSUN LUXURY LINERS on its hull. Past the liner, Anthem could see the Tethys Ocean lapping into the Caprica Bay and the water-ships coming to and leaving the city's sea-docks. If he could see farther around a bend in the shoreline, he'd be able to see the famous Caprica Beach.

If he looked the other side, he'd be able to see the buildings and docks of the downtown district of Bay Quay in Caprica City. Through the windows, Anthem could see the organic-looking and impossibly tall Millennium Tower rising from the very center of Caprica City, seemingly trying to reach for the two moons of Caprica in the day sky. Though the Caprica Presidium, with its government buildings like the Apollo Palace and the Government Center Plaza, was supposed to be the city's center, it was not in the city's geographical center, like the Millennium Tower. It put the Telamont Tower in Delphi to shame. Not a difficult thing to do as C-City was much more a city of skyscrapers than Delphi.

A triumph of antebellum Caprica's wealth and industry, it cast a shadow over the city. Metaphorically, it also cast a shadow upon the people as it was a constant reminder of the science and power of the antebellum Colonies, thereby challenging the people to be just as advanced without making the mistakes that led to the Cylon War.

A beep sounded and the captain-pilot's voice overtook all hushed conversations in the shuttle.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, traffic control has cleared us for immediate lift-off. Please take your seats, buckle up and enjoy the flight to orbit. Thank you."_

A steward, on cue, went down the shuttle's single aisle, making sure that seat-belts are buckled and food trays are stashed while saying, "Seats, please. Seats, please. We've been cleared for lift-off. Everyone, seats, please!"

The shuttle's engine whine began to build. Anthem looked at the time in his watch. Right on time.

Anthem and the other passengers soon felt a slight push into their seats as the atmospheric shuttle vertically lifted off the tarmac in the Bay Quay Terminal. Once the shuttle cleared Caprica City's skyline, the main engines cut in and the shuttle quickly made its way up into the sky, shifting the inertial push from downward to backward. The synthetic gravity soon canceled out the inertial push. The steward went down the aisle again, offering flutes of Leonis Estates Sparkling Wine on a tray.

As the shuttle plunged into the clouds, Anthem tried to relax in his seat. Media circuses were not fun. All those vulture-like reporters. In the tiny telescreen in the back of the seat in front of him, the Caprica 5 News anchorwoman, Kellan Brody, talked about the Caprica Buccaneers' recent pyramid victory against the Canceron Hydras and the upcoming game between the Tauron Bulls and the Picon Panthers. Any moment soon, she'd segue into reports on the fleet gathering above Caprica for the Kobol Expedition.

He did not want to see the newscast. There was sure to be the usual political posturing, the media-hyped melodramatics, the hard questions, and the phlegm from certain talking heads in Kellan's 'The Spotlight'.

He pressed a control button in his seat's arm and the telescreen blackened.

As he took a sip of the Leonian sparkling wine, he saw that the atmosphere outside his port window was quickly darkening. In the distance, he could see the famous white-and-blue livery and symbol of Pan-Galactic on a whale-shaped passenger liner as it slid deeper into the Caprican atmosphere.

With no more air to create drag, the shuttle sped up and soon, Anthem could see the blinking lights on the ships of the Kobol Expedition fleet in the distance. Among the ships, he could see the unmistakable shape of a massive Battlestar. The _Galactica_.

Anthem scowled. His friend, Dr. Rhea Carroll, had reassured him that the military was there to protect him.

It should have been the scientists, not the soldiers, taking the lead in the expedition. Juno Moneta! The government was pissing money away by assigning an entire battlestar, a heavy cruiser, and four Gunstars. The closest Anthem had been to the military was in the Armament Day parades and now he was neck deep in it. Gods below, they even provided a frakking Marinestar to boot! It's as if they were expecting Kobol to be a world ripe for invasion! If they thought the scientists needed protecting, they'd save time and money by assigning only an escort cruiser or just the squadron of Gunstars.

At least he would be staying on the _Celestra_, not the _Galactica_. At this moment, he could see the rectangular shape of that ship, horizontal hammerheads at the bow and stern, and conning tower topside.

The _Celestra_ was once an electronics ship for the Colonial Fleet with the most advanced DRADIS equipment. Now it was a research ship, commanded by a retired Colonial Fleet admiral named Kronus. Everything that Anthem needed for the expedition was already on the _Celestra_.

At least the military spacers had the wits not to bow to Baltar's request for the _Zephyr_. A frakking luxury starliner? Especially one with an aesthetically-created centrifugal gravity instead of synthetic gravity?? Anthem clenched his hands and released them. Baltar had learned too well from his mentor, Dr. Odin Maxwell. If he could find the genius who made Gaius Frakking Baltar the expedition head....

Anthem looked down to Caprica through the window as the shuttle passed a refinery ship, its name emblazoned on its hull: _DARU_ _MOZU_. The sun made the planet's oceans glitter through the clouds. He may be biased but Caprica was truly a jewel of the Colonies.

All too soon, the _Galactica_ blocked the view of Caprica and everything else as the shuttle slid into one of the _Galactica_'s flight pods and smoothly settled onto the flight deck. A docking umbilical extended from the cavernous walls to connect with the shuttle with a small clang.

Two stewards cycled open a large airlock hatch just as two deck hands did the same with the _Galactica_'s airlock hatch. The first through the airlock and the passageway between the two ships was Anthem, dragging his small wheeled suitcase behind himself. He would be one of several passengers allowed to disembark into the _Galactica_. Most of the passengers on the shuttle were destined for other ships in the expedition fleet. Once the disembarkation was complete, the airlocks would close and the shuttle would exit the other end of the _Galactica_'s flight pod and go to other ships in its itinerary to offload passengers and supplies.

Anthem knew that he was supposed to meet a spacer at the airlock. It turned out to be a uniformed spacer with the pins of a Colonial Fleet junior lieutenant. The man was slightly swarthy, and had rich black curly hair cut short. He smiled and said, "Dr. Cyrus, I presume?"

When Anthem came close enough for a handshake, he saw that he was about the same height as the Fleet spacer, if slightly taller. "You're Felix Gaeta?"

At a nod from the lieutenant, the two men shook hands. Gaeta ordered one of the deck hands to take Anthem's suitcase to a locker at the hangar deck. Once the little wheeled suitcase was taken care of, Anthem walked with Gaeta among the crewmen in the Battlestar's A-shaped corridors. He mentally made note of the fact that Commander Adama sent a mere junior lieutenant to greet and guide him on the _Galactica_. Though Anthem was the real leader of the science team, he grudgingly conceded the politics surrounding Gaius Baltar's leadership.

Gaeta said, "Everything you need for the expedition has been loaded on the _Celestra_. Sir, Commander Kronus sends his greetings."

Anthem's eyes flickered in annoyance. "Drop the 'sir'. I'm not in the Colonial Forces."

Gaeta was unfazed. "Of course, Doctor. Soon, the fleet will be ready. Once you're settled on the _Celestra_, we'll jump out to Ragnar Anchorage."

"Ragnar?" Anthem was surprised. Ragnar was a gas giant that had Aerilon and Aquaria in two of its LaGrange points, and was a key to the complex arrangement of planetary and stellar orbits in the Cyrannus Cluster. If he correctly remembered where it was now, a jump to Ragnar would be quite a detour on the voyage to the Prolmar Sector.

"Yes, Doctor. Our Gunstars are on station for ammo resupply. We'll rendezvous with them, and then start making the jumps to the Prolmar Sector and beyond."

Not for the first time, Anthem wondered why the government assigned so much military escort to the expedition. The mining and refinery ships were understandable as any tylium deposit discovered along the way would be a boon to the various tylium companies like Ares Oil & Tylium, but wouldn't it make more sense if the expedition consisted of survey ships, a research ship or two and two Gunstars or so? And hold off the staking of claims, either territorial or resource-wise, until after the expedition's return to the Colonies?

This expedition was like the one gathered by King Vitalos the Great at the onset of his great adventure to conquer the vast Bassanid Empire, enemy of tiny Trakesia, back in the last days of the Era of Darkness, also known as the Anti-Science Period on Caprica when the Rhodian Republic ruled only the peninsula of Batiara. Perhaps the Kobol Expedition would spawn as many changes as did Vitalos' adventure to the extremes of the August Empire of Shinacea in the east.

That comparison would appeal to the vanities of people like President Adar and Dr. Baltar. Anthem wondered whether Commander Adama would be one of them.

Anthem hoped that one of the changes would not be as bad as the Hundred Years War that tore Vitalos' empire into dozens of successor states upon his death without a clear heir.

Still, it was as if the government expected Cylons lurking in every dark corner despite the fact that they have been sequestered behind the Armistice Line on the other side of the Twelve Colonies. The Lords save Anthem from political and military paranoia!

"Doctor." Gaeta interrupted Anthem's thoughts as they continued walking. "Scuttlebutt says the fleet's itinerary's based on an ancient map that you found. Is that true?

Anthem took a small pleasure from saying, "That information is classified."

A chuckle showed that Gaeta was quick-witted enough to catch the joke. A smart man, this lieutenant.

"What are you on this ship, Mr. Gaeta?" Anthem intended to avoid military ranks as much as possible and the attached memories of his teen years in Picon City.

"Tactical officer and Senior Officer of the Watch in CIC," replied Gaeta with pride. "I've been on the _Galactica_ for three years. Before that, I studied biogenetics."

That piqued Anthem's curiosity. "Biogenetics? A Battlestar isn't exactly a science ship."

Gaeta shrugged. "I plan to get a degree through the military extension program."

"Oh."

"Once in a while, a Battlestar's a good place for the sciences. Like now." A bright grin broke out on Gaeta's face as the two men made their way deeper into the _Galactica_. "Doctor, I must say that this is exciting. At most, we've explored up to 50 light-years around the Colonies, charted the Cyrannus Cluster, and now, we're going where no one has gone before since the Exodus!"

The officer's excitement was infectious and Anthem had to smile at it. At a hatchway, Gaeta cycled the heavy door open and stood aside to let Anthem through first. As he stepped over the threshold, Gaeta lightly touched the small of his back in a gesture of guidance, causing the archaeologist to slightly arch an eyebrow. Testing the waters, he said, "Please call me Anthem. Titles are too stuffy."

The grin grew wider and brighter. "Then call me Felix."

Perhaps this man wouldn't be so bad.

The room that Gaeta and Anthem entered was the Situation Room, also called the War Room. It was the _Galactica_'s tactical planning and strike operations center. A large electronic map table dominated the room. To reach it, the two men had to go around two rows of computer consoles facing the table and the wall of image screens. Commander William Adama stood gazing down at the map table, eyebrows drawn in a frown of concentration over his spectacles, lending a stern look to the commander.

Anthem recognized Adama from the government roster that he was issued and from the news announcing the President's project to map out the Exodus route. He was not sure what to expect from Adama but, already, he didn't think much of him, judging by how the commander accepted Gaius Baltar as the science head of the expedition.

When he was able to see what Adama was studying, Anthem realized that the table was projecting the route to Kobol as given by the Galleon Stone.

Adama did not look up from the map table at Anthem. "You've caused quite a stir, Dr. Cyrus."

"Not quite the stir I was expecting, tse'Villém."

Adama looked at Anthem over the spectacles. "We're not on Tauron. Moreover, I'm a Colonial, not a Tauron, though my family is. Address me the correct way: Commander Adama or simply Commander. Otherwise, I'll address you the correct way, Dr. _Ataiun_."

A slight shudder went through Anthem while Gaeta looked on in puzzlement. "Very well...Commander."

"As I was saying, you've caused quite a stir, Dr. Cyrus, with your map." Adama gestured at the starmap displayed on the electronic table. "It's not clear enough for accurate jumps, though. We'd have to send Raptors around at each stop, chart the route and refine the coordinates we'd need."

"And look for tylium in the meantime?"

Adama gave Anthem a sharp look. The archaeologist shrugged. "I couldn't help but notice all those miners, refineries and tankers out there."

"Orders from the Office of the President," was all that Adama was willing to say.

"Oh yes, Richard Adar. I still can't believe he got re-elected two years ago despite that public outcry over the Marines and the deaths at Aerilon. He seems to think he's President Tishrei."

Adama gave a small smile at that. Tishrei was the first president of the Twelve Colonies and Adar did seem to have the ego to think he'd change the Colonies as much as Tishrei did. "Adar is a prick. You voted for Tammuz and the Federalist Party, I take it?"

Anthem chuckled as he nodded. "I'm not one for the religionists or the Unionists. Why did you accept the President's appointment of Baltar as the expedition's science head? If we find that Atlas actually supported Kobol on his shoulders like the old myths say, he wouldn't know what to do."

"Politics." Adama stood up straight. "Why Kobol?"

"Why?" Anthem glanced at Gaeta, still watching and listening, before he answered the commander. "Memories. Memory is full of holes. If you were to lay it open on a table, it would resemble a scrap of lace. I love history, but history has one flaw. It is a subjective art, no less than poetry or music. The historian writes a truth. The memoirist writes a truth. The novelist writes a truth. And so on. The ancients, like Pythia, wrote a truth in the Sacred Scrolls. It is not _the_ truth, certainly not. But _a_ truth, yes.... Pythia's book is a fact even if it's full of allegory and oracular bull. It remains so, even if it's snowflaked with holes. I am looking for facts and Kobol is the biggest hole in our collective memory, Commander. For Gods' sake, we don't even know the origins of our own species!"

"Didn't the gods create us in a paradise at Kobol?"

"Only if you believe in the gods and like to worship a serial rapist, prone to giving birth out of his own forehead, as their king."

Adama had to smile at Anthem's irreverent description of Zeus. "What about Zeus' warning that any return to Kobol would exact a price in blood?"

"Isn't that what the military are here for? To protect us from allegories that could kill?"

"If Kobol's actually there, complete with the gods themselves, and the gods demanded a burnt offering from us, I'll make sure that Baltar generously volunteers."

Both Anthem and Gaeta chuckled at that. The archaeologist found himself revising his opinions of Commander Adama for the better.

Adama gestured at a photo of the Galleon Stone map. "What makes you think this map will lead us to Kobol itself? There have been a few attempts to find both Kobol and the Thirteenth Colony. They all failed. In fact, some of the expeditions never came back. I do not intend us to get lost."

"Maybe it's because they all had only male pilots who refused to ask for directions," quipped Anthem.

Adama wasn't amused. He continued as if Anthem didn't interrupt. "Furthermore, the briefing I got says the map calls the planet Kobalos. Similar, but different. The star that this planet orbits is Phaos."

Anthem had to appreciate the commander's attention to details. "Language changes over time, Commander. Kobalos to Kobol; Phaos to Phos. Kobalos means 'Source', as in the source of all life, knowledge and civilization, and Phaos means 'Light', as in the light of knowledge, the sun and the gods. It may be where we got the word 'pharos'. A vowel shift which occurred around the time of the Sarantine Emperor Maleinos II changed the pronunciation to the modern Phos. Commander, I and my colleagues are cross-referencing the map's information with what we have in the Sacred Scrolls and archaeological excavations throughout the Colonies. Ever since we've made the translation breakthrough of the ancient language that we know to be Proto-Kobolese, or PK, we've been finding more samples of the PK language, especially on Tauron, Caprica and Gemenon, and to a lesser degree, Picon, like those totems in the Caprica Art Museum."

"Why those Colonies and not the others?"

"As far as we could tell from the archaeological records and evidence, when the Galleon first entered the Cyrannus Cluster, it landed first at Tauron, then at Caprica and Gemenon. We do not know how long the Colonization took, but the best estimates put the completion of settlement within 500 years of the first settlement of Tauron and Caprica, with either Virgon or Aquaria being the last Colony settled. So of course, the earliest settlements would have the most connections to Kobol. For this voyage, we're relying on the Galleon Stone map, the Book of Pythia and the Book of the Three Witnesses."

"Pythia? The Three Witnesses?" Adama personally felt that all this was mumbo-jumbo and he hadn't paid much attention in the religion classes he took in school. In fact, his life since the death of his sister had been full of truancy until the Cylon Rebellion took him into the military.

"Pythia's one of the oracles in the Sacred Scrolls. 3,600 years ago, she wrote about the exile and rebirth of the human race. The Three Witnesses, or the Three Initiates, were the men who witnessed the human sacrifice of the original thirteen tribal leaders on Kobol and received the gods' commands, choosing the new Quorum of Twelve, or the Traveling Councilors, who led the Exodus to the Twelve Colonies."

"Human sacrifice?" Adama winkled his nose in distaste.

Anthem shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He could feel Gaeta looking at him even as Adama scrutinized him. "Yes, Commander. The idea of human sacrifice on Kobol is rather...controversial today. But what other conclusion could we draw from this verse from Pythia: '_And the body of each tribe's leader was offered to the gods in the tomb of Athena.'_? This practice may have been the origin of the ancient practice of human sacrifice for the goddess Hecate on Caprica and some of the other Colonies."

Adama shrugged, though the distaste was still there. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that the route to Kobol be as accurate as possible. You do your job and we'll do ours."

Anthem was relieved, and he nodded in agreement. Just then, the hatch to the Situation Room opened and Colonel Saul Tigh came through it.

"Commander, the fleet is ready to spool up the drives. But one ship, the _Orion_, is still waiting for its captain."

Anthem started at the mention of the ship. Adama frowned as he tried to recall what he knew of the ships in the fleet. "Which one is it?"

As Tigh stepped over to the wall of telescreens, he said, "It's a civvie." Touching a small list in one of the telescreens, he caused it to expand enough for him to read intelligibly. Anthem saw that it was a list of ships in the expedition fleet. He scanned down the list, found '_Orion_', and highlighted it, causing a new window to appear in the telescreen, showing details of that ship and pictures of her and her crew.

Anthem glared at the displayed details. Adama noticed. "Do you know this ship?""

"It's a recovery ship. I know the captain. I think I know where he is. Commander, I have to go to Port Taurian."

Adama's face darkened. A recovery ship. It's a polite term for scavenger ship. From what he could see in the telescreen, the Admiralty hired the ship for the expedition to Kobol. Someone must have deep pockets and much influence. It was too late for him to make changes in the fleet itinerary.

"We have a time table, Doctor."

"Exactly. I know him. He wouldn't listen to the military unless his ship's threatened and you can't do that, not with all the media and political attention. I have ways of getting him back right away. We'll be back in the fleet on time. It's only a short detour."

Adama thought about it for a moment and nodded for Gaeta to take Anthem to a raptor.

Once Gaeta and Anthem were gone from the War Room, Tigh scoffed, "Civilians."

Adama had to smile. He took off his spectacles and folded them. "They have their uses, Saul."

The XO looked as if he had just entered a recently used bathroom. "As long as they're on time." Tigh brightened. "Wanna hear a bad joke I've just heard?"

"Sure."

"There once was a man from Kobol who sat in a bucket of snobols. His gonads got stuck. They needed a truck to free him and now he has nobols."

Adama stared at his friend before finally saying, "That was bad."

Tigh chuckled.

**Port Taurian  
Caprica**

On the night side of Caprica, a sign over the door to a wood-paneled bar showed inkblots strongly suggesting a raven. Caprican and Tauron scripts spelled out the gastropub's name beneath the inkblots: Morrigan's.

Inside, a huge stuffed raven, wings spread wide, was mounted behind the long bar in the noisy, crowded saloon. A lively mix of patrons was present in the late hour tableau: tattooed Taurons, Caprican natives, sleazy intercolonial smugglers and fugitives, and several no-good uniforms from the Colonial Fleet and the local Caprican regiment of the Colonial Army. Ambrosia, soju, grog, beer, buzzers, wines and other spirits flowed while the cooking smell of fish from the nearby Coraline Islands, of meat and chips wafted throughout the gastropub.

In a corner near a caged fireplace, trouble suddenly broke out between groups at two neighboring tables. Ferocious representatives from each table--one a muscular man with a lot of black tattoos on his arms, neck and hands, clearly marking him as a Tauron, the other a dark-skinned civilian captain--jumped up to face each other. As the two contenders stood poised for action, their supporters shift in their places, fondling lethal daggers and surreptitiously slipping on metal knuckles in preparation.

The Tauron man growled out, "Nothos! Ante gamisou, re malaka! Skipse kai glipse!"

The other man sneered, "You're not my type. You're too full of shit."

"Frakking skor!" The Tauron clenched his fists and said through gritted teeth, "Haema anti haematos."

The pub quieted ominously, recognizing the infamous Tauron saying. That was when the door into the pub slammed open with a bang, startling everyone.

"Arvin! You're supposed to be at Proteus!" said Anthem. "Or at least in Cold Hell at Luna Three."

Captain Arvin Tyler whipped his head to see who spoke. "Anthem! What brings you here?"

Anthem unblinkingly looked at the Tauron man. "Eirini, adelfe mou. Eirini pera dike. Anabo osfy eis piston."

The tattooed man looked over Anthem, assessing his muscles and his psychological strength in the eyes. He grunted, "Sto diaolo aneros, onto einai filon onomasthes." The Tauron looked back at Tyler, narrowed his eyes and quietly said as he sat back down, "Asto thialo, re gamoto."

"Same to you, dirteater."

Anthem slammed Tyler's table with a cupped hand, producing a thunderclap that startled Tyler and some other patrons in Morrigan's. "Enough! Sit down, you piece of skor."

Tyler smirked as he sat. "Spoken like a true Tauron. Grew up in Little Tauron?"

A flicker of annoyance went across Anthem's face before he went blank. He formally folded his hands over his heart and bowed his head slightly. "Tyler khairein Anthem."

Tyler raised his eyebrows at that in recognition. "Not a Little Tauron brat." He gave Anthem a nod and formally returned "Greetings to Anthem from Tyler." He flashed a grin and shrugged. "I could never speak the dirt gobblegook language."

Anthem curtly said, "Save it. If you could really understand Tauronese, then you can understand this: teleiosan ola."

Confusion caused Tyler to frown. "'The game is up'? What game?"

"Your ship. It's in the expedition fleet. Why?"

Tyler shrugged. "We were hired. It's all legitimate. Don't like it? Complain to Admiral Rohner."

"You're looters, smugglers." Anthem leaned forward. "I know it was you who tipped off Korben back at Scorpia. Casus Sandral was a good friend. I ought to kill you."

"Not a very private place for a murder."

Anthem looked around pointedly. "Just moments ago, you were ready to kill. Die, more likely."

Tyler chuckled. "I love our stimulating encounters. I almost regret not being friends with you. Where can I find people like you?"

"Try the local sewer."

"I know you hate me." Tyler shrugged, showing that he didn't care. "We always hate in others what we fear in ourselves. You and I are very much alike."

Anthem grabbed a couple lemon-fried olives from a wooden bowl and popped them into his mouth. Chewing, he said, "Now you're getting nasty."

"We do the same kind of work. Our methods are not as different as you pretend. You do it for the cubits, too, if only through a legitimate third party, like a museum or a university. My way is much more direct. It would take only a nudge to push you out of the light, to make you the same as me."

There was a certain truth to this and the recognition of it flickered in Anthem's eyes. Tyler saw it.

"Oh ho! So you already know it to be true!" Tyler laughed. "Then I'm wasting my breath talking about it. Where and how did you learn that truth, I wonder? I heard rumors of your...life on Picon."

Ignoring the prod, Anthem said, "I know it's not really Admiral Rohner who got your ship in the expedition. You're letting my cousin use you." He stood up. "If you're going to be good eyes and ears, no, _good thieves_ for Tassilo, come. The fleet's ready now."

Tyler was briefly surprised at the revelation that Anthem knew who hired him and his crew. He quickly recovered and rejoined with a shit-eating grin, "Any chance for us to swing by the Bliffe Sector and pick up some ambrosia from Proteus? Prisoner-made ambrosia fermented in a low-gravity environment...." He kissed his fingertips and blew them away in admiration.

His face carefully absent of any expression, Anthem quietly said, "Du-te la iad. A voi a fi ceas tu."

Confusion clouded Tyler's face. "Is that Gemenese? But I'm Aquarian. You trying to insult me?" He grinned again. "Looks like this trip will be lots of fun!"

Anthem half-groaned and rolled his eyes as he left Morrigan's. But he was satisfied.

Keep friends close and enemies closer.

**Langara**

**Milky Way Galaxy**

On a world thousands of light years separated from Earth yet still connected, two men stood gathered, stood waiting in anticipation and expectation near an oval shaped ring that was their gateway to the stars. Most cultures associated this seemingly benign ring of stone with death and pain as the scourge of the galaxy known as the Goa'uld had used the Chappa'ai as the basis to build their empire, rarely did they venture beyond the gate or its network.

The stargate, a ring of highly refined naquada which acted as a super conductor, was able to channel the frightening power of stable wormholes to connect a galaxy. The stargate was perhaps the greatest masterpiece of Ancient technology in the known galaxy; their ability to allow the Ancients to cross vast distances in space as easily as stepping through a door was perhaps one the greatest testaments to their technological prowess and yet, long after their demise, the stargate continued to serve as a means to shape the galaxy.

The stargate itself was buried in a bunker on the outskirts of the capital of Kelowna where it was deemed safe and secure. The facility where it was housed was a non-descript bunker. It was steel gray with harsh lighting and plain as it was utilitarian in the extreme, its design philosophy of form following function common to human military mindset.

Buried under nearly a hundred feet of steel, concrete and solid rock the facility was hidden well from the prying eyes of the public. And it was here that history would be made that would forever shape a people and their destiny for generations to come. To one person in particular who was used to a more elaborate setup it was woefully inadequate, but he hoped that would soon change with the help of some 'friends'.

At once the stargate began to spin and the base's new alert sirens began to flash as a harsh wailing alarm blared from the speakers.

"_Off world activation, defense personnel to your stations!_" A voice resonated throughout the base, "_Closing the Iris!"_

Within moments of the stargate coming to life a harsh metal grating sound filled the air as the Iris slid into place while at the same time armed troops moved into position and leveled their weapons. They were the elite of their world, the best and the brightest from Kelowna, Tirania and the Andari Federation; all three countries on Langara, pioneers from all walks of life, and the first brave souls of what would soon become the Langaran Stargate Program. Brandishing advanced military firearms and body armor, far more advanced than their world was capable of yet producing, the guardians of the gate moved into defensive positions near the base of the stargate while yet more troops took up elevated positions on the metal railings overhead. They moved with the crisp and confident movements of soldiers well versed in their order of battle.

"Not bad." Jonas Quinn grinned as he surveyed the scene before him. "Not bad at all Sergeant Major." Jonas remarked to the man in digital pattern ACUs standing next to him.

"They could be better." Command Sergeant Major Roy Finch grunted. He glanced once more to the Air Force Security Forces technical sergeant standing next to him with his stop watch and raised an eyebrow slightly at his fellow non-com, "but they've cut off thirty seconds from their time three days ago, so they're making progress."

SGM Roy Finch was a 23 year veteran of the United States Army. An imposing figure at 6 feet, 2 inches tall and 230 pounds of rock solid muscle, with a square jaw, rugged looks and skin tight high fade haircut, he had a sharp intellect and keen grasp of situational awareness not hinted at by his outwardly brutish looks and no nonsense demeanor. He began his career as a buck private in the 82nd Airborne Division at the age of 17, nothing but skin and bones with determination and a hunger for self improvement that the Army was all too willing grant him. After spending three good years with the 'All American' division, he quickly proved himself to be an exceptional soldier with a promising career.

But he wanted more, a lot more. He decided to take the next step of taking on more challenging assignments and soon went off to endure the rigors of Ranger School at the Army's home of the infantry at Ft. Benning Georgia, and he not only succeeded but graduated at the top of his class. He soon found the challenge he was looking for and his calling in life, the 75th Ranger Regiment, and never left.

But the life of a soldier is rarely peaceful, particularly for special operations forces such as the US Army Rangers. There was always someone somewhere who needed a good 'ole American ass kicking and the Rangers had typically been the steel-toed boot to do it. He'd seen more than his fair share of combat all over the world, from the thick jungles of Panama to the sands of Saudi Arabia and Iraq in the Persian Gulf War and practically every place in-between, officially and unofficially. He'd stayed within the Rangers for his entire career, jumping between all three of the current active battalions of the Regiment as well as the three training battalions. Now nearing the end of his distinguished career, after his tour with the Rangers had officially ended, he was now acting in an advisory capacity for the US Army and Stargate Command to help train US allies off world in basic infantry tactics.

The idea of something like the stargate and what it represented at first glance seemed like something out of a wacky sci-fi nightmare, or the script for a somewhat cheesy television show. But it was terrifyingly real. And when he'd learned that the United States 'Chair Force' had picked a fight with an interstellar empire that could have squashed Earth like a bug, with about as much compunction, he'd seriously questioned his government's (and the Air Dales') sanity. But now, as he'd been brought in after the fact (that fact being that the war with the Goa'uld hadn't kicked off with a bang but ended in a whimper, a point of which he was slightly bitter about), he couldn't help but wonder why he'd been selected to be part of the Army's growing contribution to the stargate program.

And then they told him.

The United States Government was looking to expand its political, economic and military ties with its off world allies. Chief among them were Hebridia, Orban and most particularly, Langara. He'd been given a daunting task: establish a basic training regimen which could be used to train off world allies as well as its TOE.

TOE stood for Table of Organization and Equipment and it was the means of organizing, staffing and equipping a unit. It also provided information on the mission and capabilities of the unit as well as its current status. And given the abysmal state of both Langara and Orban's military readiness, it pretty much meant he would be building up these units from the ground up. He'd initially been very skeptical of the idea of sharing what was overwhelmingly Earth's greatest strength, that of skilled, highly trained and professional soldiers capable of innovative warfare and adaptive thinking.

But over time he had come to see it as a good investment in long term allies much as the United States had invested time and political capital into Germany and Japan after World War II to counter the growing threat of the Soviet Union. The situation wasn't exactly the same but similar enough that the United States recognized an opportunity born of necessity. With relations growing tenser between Earth and the Free Jaffa Nation, the United States was forced to accept a very sobering reality. That with the sheer size and scale of the Free Jaffa Nation… a vast fleet of Ha'tak motherships, tens of millions, possibly hundreds of millions of troops, controlling a vast swath of the galaxy and insurmountable resources, the United States didn't have a hope in hell of surviving, let alone winning an all out war, without international and intergalactic allies.

It was as simple as that.

And so here he was playing a pivotal role to ensure his nation's and his world's survival. He'd taken his time to thoroughly evaluate his allies and their capabilities and he'd been thoroughly unimpressed by what he'd seen. He had assembled a staff of the best and brightest Non-Commissioned Officers he could find from all across the US Army. NCO's who had both experience in training soldiers as well as combat experience. It had taken a little doing in acquiring the senior cadre he needed, but after a ton of brainstorming, arguments and batting ideas back and forth, they had finally settled on a solid but flexible training program with suitable TOE's. The very book by which the new 'Langaran Defense Force' and 'Orbanian Defense Force' were now being trained from.

As the final chevron locked into place the sound of an active wormhole connecting radiated throughout the gate room. It was a scheduled activation with incoming dignitaries from Earth but SGM Roy Finch and his teams never passed up an opportunity to get in some good training for their raw but eager allies.

"We're receiving an incoming IDC, opening the iris."

The large metal rings guarding the event horizon of the stargate retracted and folded back within the gate. Moments later several figures appeared from the event horizon of the gate. Three of them were dressed in the digital pattern Army Combat Uniforms (ACUs) that was becoming the new standard with the Army these days. As Finch took note of this his attention shifted to the other three members of the arriving entourage and it made him raise an eyebrow as his only outward display of emotion. The dark suits, grim expressions and easily discernable sidearms screamed an agency of some sort and not the State Department team they had been expecting, which was rather interesting.

"Right on time," Jonas smirked as the dignitaries slowly moved down the ramp but then his expression shifted into something Finch couldn't read.

"Problem Mr. Quinn?" SGM Finch asked.

Jonas frowned slightly before answering "I'm not sure yet." Then he shrugged "Let's go meet our guests." Jonas said as he closer to the base of the ramp with purposeful strides.

Upon first arriving on this world six months ago, of all the people Finch had ever expected to command the Langaran Stargate Program, Jonas Quinn certainly wasn't one of them. He had expected to deal with the senior military 'commander' of the Kelownan armed forces or perhaps some sort of political hack who 'didn't have a clue'. Instead he'd been greeted by a man dressed in plain civilian clothing wearing a goofy grin and almost childlike exuberance, but who had eyes that hinted of frightening intelligence, and he wasn't the least bit intimidated by the mountain of muscle that was Roy Finch. And thus his first appraisal of the man who would lead the Langaran Stargate Program became one of cautious optimism.

Jonas Quinn wasn't a clueless political hack nominally put in charge to rubber stamp the Kelownan government's agenda on the stargate program, much to Finch's blessed relief. He gave Finch a wide berth to do as he saw fit to train and equip the troops of the Langaran Defense Force accordingly. And when the Kelownan government had argued that the Kelownan military alone was more than up to the task, it had been Jonas who had proposed to Finch the idea of staging a mock attack on the Langaran stargate facility just to prove a point that they weren't. The outcome of _that_ exercise silenced the diehard conservative elements of the Kelownan armed forces.

He had bravely stood against his own government on more than one occasion and he'd typically gotten his way. Yet despite this his appointment as commander of the Langaran Stargate Program _was_ political in nature. It was also a necessity.

Jonas Quinn was perhaps one of the most respected men on all of Langara. During the attack by Anubis nearly two years ago, his willingness to fight for not just Kelowna but also Tirania and the Andari Federation had earned their grudging respect. He had been there in those early days of contact with Earth when SG-1 had made first contact with the Kelownan government and the subsequent disaster with the naquadria bomb. He'd defected to Earth and joined SG-1 and spent over a year with that legendary team. He'd thrown himself into his field so as not to be a liability; in that short time displaying a keen grasp of languages and cultures that rivaled Dr. Jackson.

But his learning didn't stop there. He had absorbed every facet of life in the galaxy and life on Earth that he could. He made it his primary mission to learn who the players of the galaxy were and the ever changing situations that shaped the balance of power. While on Earth his education took on a form of a different kind as he keenly and discreetly observed what it took to run a front line command like the SGC, the resources it involved, the people and experience they drew from and the funding, administrative and political support the SGC needed.

And he had learned his lessons well. To put it simply there was _no one_ on all of Langara more qualified to run the program than Jonas Quinn.

But Jonas's contributions to his world didn't stop there. Jonas had immediately thrown himself into his work with fanatical intensity. He had quickly become the strongest advocate of closer military and political ties with Earth. He had also advocated,\ and got approval for the Langaran Stargate Program as well as becoming one of the founding fathers of the Langaran Defense Force. He was the voice of both experience and reason and thanks to his near legendary exploits, when he talked people listened.

Working directly with him Finch had been able to cut through a lot of the political bickering and shady back room deals just to get the program off the ground. Now six months later the first battalions of the Langaran Defense Force were just now coming online.

Shaking the thought from his mind Finch moved forward with Jonas Quinn to greet the arriving dignitaries.

"Welcome, on behalf of the Joint Security Council of Langara, welcome to the Langaran Stargate Facility. I'm Jonas Quinn, commander of this installation and this is Command Sergeant Major Roy Finch, my advisor."

Finch simply nodded.

The lead figure in ACUs spoke first. "Lieutenant Colonel Darnell Green, commanding officer, 7th Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment." He turned too gestured to the two soldiers standing on either side of him, each in full ACU Interceptor body army, duffle bags draped over their right shoulder, and what Finch could see was the latest variant of the M-4 rifle. "May I present Staff Sergeant Joshua Fachetti and Staff Sergeant Nicholas Dunn."

Both troopers nodded curtly at the introduction but said nothing.

The first soldier introduced; SSG Joshua Fachetti was of average height, 5 feet, 9 inches tall, with a caramel complexion and a solid build. His friend and comrade since basic training, SSG Nicholas Dunn, was shorter at 5 feet, 6 inches, with a wiry build, red hair, freckles and a scar that ran from his nose and over his lip; a little gift from an IED blast during a dismounted patrol near the Pakistani border.

Both men had met in basic training and it was a solid friendship from the word go, as they helped each other to make it through Basic Training and Advanced Individual Training (AIT) and then upon arriving with the 82nd Airborne Division, deploying and surviving two tours in Afghanistan.

They were highly trained, battle hardened killers the best of the best in their specialty of warfare. Just the kind of men Finch was looking for.

Colonel Green continued, "Roy, these are two of the best for light infantry training program and should round out your senior cadre. Both of these soldiers just got back from their second tour in Afghanistan and volunteered for this stint."

"I'll take'em sir." He acknowledged with a nod.

Colonel Green then gestured to the trio of civilians in suites, the lead being a rather attractive woman in her early thirties with an athletic and lithe build of Asian descent. The other two with her were of average height and medium build and completely ordinary looking in either way.

"My I present Special Agent Kumiko Nagagura with the Nuclear Emergency Search Team and Agents Patrick Murphy and James Count, also of NEST."

_NEST…about fucking time_, SGM Finch thought darkly. Better late than never though, but at the same time he couldn't help but wonder why it had taken so long for the Pentagon and the Agency to finally send a team, even after Finch had relayed his growing concerns along with Jonas Quinn's assessment of the deteriorating situation and pleas for assistance.

"Welcome to Langara, all of you." Jonas Quinn smiled widely. Looking closer at him it seemed as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He could easily guess why.

"We're eager to get under way." Colonel Green spoke up.

"And eager to get to work right away," Special Agent Nagagura added crisply in a tone of voice that was all business. Behind her the still active stargate rippled as a F.R.E.D vehicle under remote control and loaded with equipment moved down the ramp followed by another F.R.E.D. as the group of new arrivals moved out of the way to make room for the MALP's bigger and less well known cousin.

"Stargate Command acknowledges transit of the travelers and their equipment sir."

"Please send our acknowledgment and our thanks chief, and then shut it down. Call the airfield and let them our guests have arrived, I want our birds ready to lift off once we're outside." Jonas ordered.

"Yes sir!" The sergeant replied and then hurried off to carry out his assignment.

Jonas turned to his new arrivals. "Please follow me."

Jonas moved off with a brisk pace as Colonel Green fell into step with him on his right hand side with Agent Nagagura on the left. SGM Finch nodded curtly to the senior Air Force SF in charge of the troops in the gate room to take over before moving off to join them.

The group moved through the sparsely lit, narrow grey corridors of the bunker facility. The stargate facility on Langara, much like its more advanced counterpart on Earth, was busy. A virtual hive of activity with everyone moving in the frenzied manner of controlled chaos, they moved to and from their destinations. The cramped, Spartan corridors barely left any room for anyone to maneuver around them through the busy bunker facility.

"Your troops are looking good Mr. Quinn, much better than the last time I was here a few months ago." Colonel Green nodded approvingly.

"All the credit goes to SGM Finch and his cadre for the outstanding training they've put our troops through." The group passed through a checkpoint and turned another corridor heading to the main cargo elevator lift to the surface.

Jonas spoke up, "I understand that congratulations are in order Colonel. Your new battalion is going to be a very welcome addition to Stargate Command."

The battalion in question was 7th Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment, newly formed for the specific purpose of conducting missions through the gate that required more firepower than a standard SG team could provide. They were officially based out of Fort Carson, Colorado, a high deploying post sending units to Afghanistan perfectly suited to maintain their cover, despite the fact that 7th Battalion would never deploy overseas.

Assaulting fortified off world targets, reconnoitering in force, rescuing pinned down SG teams or providing heavy fire support, 7th Battalion was the Army's heavy muscle contribution to the stargate program.

Colonel Darnell Green, of African American descent, was a 19 year veteran of the United States Army, joining up after growing up and graduating from high school on the south side of Detroit. Thin, with a runners build, he had a demeanor that exuded confidence and authority. He also had a degree in political science and international relations.

Much like SGM Roy Finch, he had started relatively young, enlisting in the Army at age 18, going through Airborne School and then joining the Rangers. They had even served in the same squad together when a newly promoted Sergeant Finch had taken the new Private First Class Darnell Green under his wing and taken the time in mentoring him to turn the young man into a real soldier. It had been the start of a growing friendship between the two men, and as they advanced through the ranks it had only grown. It was a very common story within the US Army.

Unlike Finch however, once he had finished his enlistment he decided to go through the Army's 'Green to Gold' program with the full support of Finch. He'd gone through the program and succeeded and shortly after getting his officer's bars he volunteered for the Army's SFAS program or better known as Special Forces Selection. He'd made it and then went through the Q Course at the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center at Fort Bragg North Carolina. He spent close to ten years with the Green Berets, working with groups in South America, but like all SF groups he'd had a few tours in Afghanistan and the Horn of Africa. But after a while he decided to transfer back to the Rangers.

He had long since been pegged as a rising star within the Special Forces community and had been quickly brought into the fold at Stargate Command during the height of the Anubis scare more than two years ago as one of the first Army advisors to the program.

The Army had always played a very minor role in the Air Force dominated program and mostly in the background at that. A point that the Army was _slightly_ bitter about. But over time, and with the backing of the Joint Special Operations Command or JSOC, the Army had finally been given a more active role in the program.

He'd gone on a few off world missions, even one with the famous SG-1 to get a feel for the Standard Operating Procedures of the SGC. For the most part he was impressed with the way the Air Force handled its operations off-world, much of it unfortunately having the 'learned the hard way' feel to it. But in his analysis of Stargate Command's procedures, he'd quickly discovered some serious flaws with how the SGC conducted off- world operations. Chief among them the four man teams the Air Force insisted on with a complete _lack_ of a Quick Reaction force (QRF) to back them up in case a mission went FUBAR (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition). And at the SGC missions went FUBAR, _a lot_.

He'd petitioned and gotten funding for four new Army recon teams, each team consisting of at least two squads in size and strength, specializing in long term observation of potential off-world targets or specialized in quick strike missions. Anything that those teams couldn't handle, or if an objective needed to be assaulted swiftly with greater firepower would see individual companies or the entire 7th Battalion sent through the gate to deal with the problem.

"Only two companies are mission capable at the moment with the other two reaching sixty percent strength. It's an uphill battle, fighting the other battalions in the Regiment for trained personnel." Colonel Green said as the entire group stepped into the heavy freight elevator.

Only after punching in the number for the top floor did Jonas respond by nodding in understanding in understanding "Believe me I can relate. Most of the troops sent to us from Tirania and the Andari Federation weren't exactly the 'cream of the crop' like we had hoped for."

"I thought their governments were taking this program seriously?" Green asked.

"They are." Jonas replied with a nod. "Unfortunately while their governments are, their senior military commanders balked at the idea of sending their best to us. Instead they sent what could be considered second rate soldiers to take advantage of this training program, leaving _us_ with the task of making them better _for them_. We didn't catch on to this little fact until a month into the program and by then there was nothing we could do about it."

"There's more." Finch grunted in displeasure.

Jonas snorted in agreement "Oh yeah a lot more."

"What is it?" Green asked.

"I have a few government contacts within the Tiranian and Andari Federation governments as well as my own government, and what they just told me last week threatens to set back our progress by months."

Based on past progress and intelligence reports Stargate Command received, Colonel Green had a pretty good idea of what Jonas was about to say next.

Jonas continued: "The _official representatives_ to the program informed me that more than half of the officer and non-commissioned officer corps are to be rotated back to their respective countries upon completion of their training. But what my _contacts_ are telling me is that upon arrival back home those soldiers will be debriefed by their intelligence services."

"Why would they do that?" Special Agent Nagagura asked.

Finch answered with a sour looking expression "What this means Agent Nagagura, is that the Tirania and Andari militaries are using this program as a means of updating _their_ own training doctrines."

"But won't their governments frown on something like this?" Agent Nagagura asked. "I mean aren't they jeopardizing planetary security by doing this?"

Finch again took up the explanation "Yes, but the story their senior military commanders are selling to their leaders is that they're doing this for the good of their respective nations. By rotating those soldiers back home to train their own forces they are essentially bringing up their forces to a higher state of readiness; making them more compatible to work with Langaran Defense Force."

Nagagura looked confused "How is this helping?"

Jonas shook his head in a display of frustration "It's not. What it is doing is cutting our legs out from under us. We're projected to lose almost a quarter of our strength, four of six of the battalion commanders, more than half of the junior officers and almost all of the senior non-commissioned officers."

"Which is why I'm here," Colonel Green said to Agent Nagagura.

Jonas nodded "Kelowna is hosting the first ever tri-lateral security conference in the capital. All three senior commanders of our respective nations as well as a large number of civilian dignitaries are scheduled to attend the conference. Colonel Green is the keynote speaker."

"I'm here to sell all three nations on the idea of the Langaran Defense Program and to stop Tirania and Andari from gutting the new units before they've had a chance to stand too."

"Killing them with bureaucracy." SGM Finch replied sardonically.

"So Kelowna hasn't been a problem?" Nagagura asked.

Jonas grimaced slightly "We're approaching the second anniversary of Anubis's invasion. My people still remember his flagship hovering over our city and Jaffa troops in our streets." Jonas gave a look to Colonel Green that could only be described as deep gratitude, "My people are very appreciative to SG-1 for eliminating Anubis's Flagship…and 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger's _tremendous_ assistance in dealing with his remaining occupational troops. Believe me when I say my nation is all for this alliance."

After Anubis's mothership had been driven off the by the Goa'uld fleet his army of Jaffa had been left behind to fend for themselves. Rather than try to retreat back through the gate, the Jaffa had stubbornly maintained their brutal occupation of the Kelownan capital. For over two weeks the Kelownan armed forces had tried to retake the city with no success. Those few units which hadn't been bombed into oblivion by Anubis's mothership and subsequent Al'kesh and glider attacks found themselves overmatched by the dogged tenacity of the Jaffa. After two weeks of brutal fighting the casualties to the Kelownan armed forces had been staggering. Worse, they had failed to complete a _single_ objective in their campaign to liberate their city. The counter attack to drive the Jaffa from Kelowna was by any definition a colossal failure.

The Kelownans pleaded with Earth for aid in driving the Jaffa off of Langara which was granted. SG-1 had been sent to gather intelligence on the occupational forces while the relief force from the 3rd Ranger Battalion under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Darnell Green were being prepped at Fort Carson, Colorado to assault through the gate. SG-1's mission had gone off without a hitch, a first for the legendary team. Within hours of their report being sent back, 3rd Battalion had been sent through the gate. 3rd Battalion didn't attack immediately, much to the Kelownan government's anger. Instead they took time to review their strategy and reorganize the surviving Kelownan units to augment their own strength. Only when Colonel Green felt confident in victory did the Rangers move…and what a move it was. Within a week of launching their first assault the Rangers were close to completing their objective in liberating the city. The advanced tactics the Rangers used had simply overwhelmed the Jaffa, who had never faced anything like it. Used to dealing with small teams from Earth that could be easily overwhelmed with superior numbers, the Jaffa occupational forces simply couldn't deal with a well trained force like the Ranger battalion. In desperation and rage the Jaffa fell back on their old tried and true tactics of massed frontal assaults against the fortified Ranger positions and the Jaffa fell in droves. This combined with aid and intelligence from local resistance cells and the surviving Kelownan armed forces helped to secure a far quicker victory than had been initially projected. Casualties to the Rangers had been lighter than expected and had simply been written off as casualties from the campaign in Afghanistan. But they had done it and in so doing they had secured a spot of near reverence among the local Kelownans, and word of what the Rangers had done had even spread far and wide to Tirania and the Andari Federation.

Jonas continued, "Our ultimate goal is to set up an alliance similar to your North Atlantic Treaty Organization between all three nations but with a core of troops answerable only to the defense council. These units would act as our world's first line of defense in fending off planetary assaults but also project power through the gate."

It was an ambitious goal to be sure, and in the short term unrealistic, but Langara was thinking long term and given Langara's troubled history concerning the galaxy at large it was one that didn't really afford them many alternatives. The Goa'uld had set their sights on Langara during Anubis's invasion, and a follow up investigation by a Goa'uld operative as to why Anubis had such an interest in the world had been thwarted by SG-1.

That should have been the end of it with the downfall of the Goa'uld but alas it was not to be. Recently the Jaffa had begun to show an interest in the planet for a variety of reasons, chief among them rumors of a unique and very powerful form of naquada known as naquadria. So far the Jaffa hadn't made any overtly threatening gestures to Langara but neither had they been very friendly either. The representatives of Langara, and Kelowna in particular, remembered very well the attack on their world and thanks to Stargate Command as well as their own interactions with the Jaffa, post invasion, they were very much aware of the Jaffa leadership's dim view of humans.

Relations were cordial at the moment but that could change in the future. The leaders of Langara wanted to prepare for that eventuality and there was no one better to help them do it than the people who had engineered the downfall of the Goa'uld.

"When does this conference take place?" Agent Nagagura asked.

"In one week." Jonas answered.

The elevator reached the top level and opened as the group filed out. They moved past another security checkpoint and out a heavily guarded exit of the bunker and into the mid afternoon sunny sky of Langara.

The sight that greeted them was a heavily paved air field with an easily recognized US Army Blackhawk helicopter and two Apache gunships for escort.

"Then all the more reason we need to discuss the details of NEST's mission here." Agent Nagagura emphasized. "I was only given a preliminary briefing on the situation."

Jonas shook his head in the negative before speaking up. "As soon as we're on the bird, I'd rather not discuss this in the open where someone might hear us."

The crew chief quickly spotted the dignitaries and motioned them his way. After taking a few moments to spot check each individual he motioned for them to follow him. They moved in a perpendicular direction away from the tail rotor of the Blackhawk. Once they came parallel to the main body of the bird they then moved into a perpendicular direction into the Blackhawk. The crew chief took a few moments in helping the crew to strap into their seats and linking in their earphones and speakers to the Blackhawk's internal communications system.

Satisfied that their passengers were strapped in and secure the Blackhawk lifted off followed shortly by the two Apache gunships.

"How did you guys get Blackhawks out here?" SSG Dunn asked.

"The _Daedalus_ recently dropped off some Blackhawks and Apaches a few weeks ago with enough fuel and spare parts for over four months of operations. Again this is also part of the program." Jonas answered. What Jonas didn't mention but everyone knew about was the fact that the United States government was looking to sale a lot of military hardware to the fledgling Langaran Defense Force _and_ the three nations of Langara. New body armor, rifles and ammunition, Infantry Fighting Vehicles, atmospheric fighter jets, spare parts and fuel, the list went on and on. The projected profits from defense contracts alone were looking to be into hundreds of millions possibly even billions and it was only the beginning of a much larger modernization program for all of Langara.

"Wow." Dunn shared a look with Fachetti as both shook their heads in amazement.

"I'd like to continue on with our previous discussion." Colonel Green spoke up directing the conversation back to their previous point.

"I'll answer everything that I can and some of what I suspect." Jonas offered.

Colonel Green shared a look with Agent Nagagura and nodded which prompted the woman to straighten in her seat.

"What's the latest you can tell us?" She asked.

"Nothing new unfortunately. Our government and security agencies are deeply concerned, but they have found nothing definitive." Jonas answered. "And considering the magnitude of the threat we could be facing, not knowing is what scares me."

"Isn't Tirania cooperating in the investigation?" Nagagura asked.

"Nothing more than angry rhetoric and blaming Kelowna for creating the problem in the first place," Jonas remarked sadly. "The treaty stipulation doesn't exactly cover stuff like this. And it's well outside my jurisdiction. All the Tirania government will tell us is that they're looking into the problem."

"Did Tirania at least provide any solid figures to how much naquadria is missing?" Agent Nagagura asked.

"They have, and I'm sorry to say it's enough to… to build a naquadria bomb."

An ominous and oppressive silence settled over everyone in the Blackhawk.

"Sorry to butt in, but what exactly are we talking about?" SSG Dunn asked after a few tense moments.

Jonas smiled sadly "You would have been briefed once we had arrived at Forward Operating Base Langara but I figure there's no time like the present." Jonas took a moment to compose himself and his expression became pained as if he were about to go into something very unpleasant. "Three years ago, the three countries that comprised Langara were on the brink of a world war. In particular my country Kelowna was the target of an alliance between Tirania and the Andari Federation. Tensions had been building for years but they were nearing the breaking point by the time SG-1 made contact. My government pleaded for technological assistance to help redress the balance of power which seriously favored Tirania and Andari. But Earth refused. At about this point my people had also been working on a secret weapon one that was only to be used when all else failed. The naquadria bomb."

"Like a nuke?" Fachetti asked.

"Worse than a nuke, _a lot_ worse," Jonas replied grimly. He swallowed heavily and pushed on. "It was about this time that I began to have my doubts as to my government's intentions with the naquadria bomb. I feared they were going to use it no matter what. So I stole as much naquadria as I could and defected to Earth to derail the project. I could no longer be a part of what amounted to nothing more than mass murder." Jonas related.

"But they dropped the bomb anyway." Dunn accurately guessed.

Jonas nodded. "I only slowed down the deployment of the bomb, but I didn't stop it. And just when it seemed war was imminent Kelowna struck first, with the naquadria bomb."

"How bad?" Fachetti asked with a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Bad…" Jonas answered heavily and he visually struggled to keep his composure. "Despite assurances to only attack military targets the bomb was dropped on the Tirania capital city. The government argued that Tirania's main military base, which was on the outskirts of their capital city, would be the staging point they would launch their attack into Kelowna. This as I later learned was true. But I also learned that the Andari president was also meeting with his Tirania counterpart at the time. Either way it doesn't matter how you justify it. My government sensed an opportunity and took it. And more than seven million people were killed because of it."

"Holy… shit!" Dunn and Fachetti both responded with horrified whispers.

Jonas continued, "The gamble paid off. Tirania's key civilian leadership and almost their entire military command were wiped out in the attack. They were completely defenseless and the new Andari leadership refused to support the alliance from that point on, fearing they too would become a target."

"How big was the blast?" Agent Nagagura asked.

"No one really knows for sure but based off some figures drawn up by Colonel Carter on the blast wave and estimated thermal bloom she figures close to four gigatons."

The newcomers were stunned.

Jonas continued his recap of recent events, "But there were complications that no one foresaw. Massive radiation fallout, seismic events and natural disasters, all of it caused by the detonation of the Naquadria bomb and all of which have killed hundreds of thousands more innocent people. It was a true nightmare that horrified all three governments but it did manage to bring our respective leaders back to the negotiating table."

"As horrible as that is, and I hate to sound like a real bastard to ask this question, sir. But—"

"—But how does this involve you?" Jonas anticipated the question.

"Yes."

Jonas nodded. "Shortly after the new peace talks began a Goa'uld System Lord known as Anubis launched an attack. After his flagship had been beaten off and his army dealt with, our governments realized that we needed to work together in order to survive. Together we signed the first real peace treaty between our counties and jointly approached Earth with the prospect of trade and closer relations. But there has been…resistance"

"Resistance?" Fachetti asked warily. The depressing story they had just heard was bad enough. He wasn't sure he was gonna like what else Mr. Quinn was about to say.

A few months ago I was tipped off to a raid by Kelownan security forces in the port city of Vancover. The government had been following a group of Tiranian radicals for some time and finally moved in to deal with them. What they found in the raid however sent chills down their spines"

"What did they find?" Nagagura asked.

"The usual stuff you'd expect from a terrorist group, bomb making materials, propaganda pamphlets, false passports that sort of thing. But they found something they didn't expect to find, something that's been giving our government a lot of sleepless nights. The schematics to make a naquadria bomb."

Agent Nagagura added "And given that there is enough of the stuff missing to build one I can understand their concerns."

Nuclear Terrorism. It was the nightmare scenario to the 'western world' back on Earth. The thought of radicals acquiring such weapons to use were too terrible to think about.

"Well this brings me up to speed on the recent events," Nagagura said flatly.

SGM Finch leaned forward with an intense look on his face, "Miss Nagagura, it is imperative that we determine if this group does indeed have a naquadria bomb and eliminate them if they do. If they do have one, and if they are successful in detonating it, everything we've been building here for the last six months will be destroyed."

Jonas nodded in agreement "Despite the progress we've made things are still tense between our respective nations. If this group does have a bomb and detonates it I assure you it _will_ lead to war. And since we've been mining more of the new naquadria veins naquadria is more abundant than ever. All three nations have access to it. We've all been selling it to Earth as part of the new treaty but if war breaks out you can bet more naquadria bombs will be built…and used."

"Believe me Mr. Quinn, no one wants to see that happen." Agent Nagagura assured.

"Miss Nagagura, why has it taken so long to get a NEST team out here?" SMG Finch asked pointedly. "We sent the report of the raid two weeks ago and our request for NEST assistance."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss operations back home. So I'm not sure I have an answer that's satisfactory for you," Agent Nagagura replied. "But rest assured that we are here now and we will help however we can."

"We'd appreciate whatever help you can give us." Jonas replied.

"In order to be as effective as possible I'll need to speak with key leaders of all three countries."

"It's all been arranged." Jonas assured her.

Agent Nagagura turned to her two companions. "James, I want you to take the port city of Vancover. Get a feel for the place, the best places to smuggle in weapons, who are the players what are their agendas. The works."

"I'll get right on it." Agent Count affirmed.

Agent Murphy spoke up directing his question to Jonas. "How much of the stuff are we talking about?" "

Jonas scowled in frustration, "Tirania hasn't exactly been forthcoming with hard figures. They're trying to keep it under wraps and avoid a major international crisis. If this goes public it'll cause a massive panic. One in which the Tiranian government will either be painted as malignant aggressor or criminally incompetent in allowing something like this to happen. Either way it plays out it'll still destroy this fragile alliance we've been building."

"And you can bet the US troops stationed here will be caught in the middle," Finch added darkly.

The group remained quit for the rest of the trip as they approached Forward Operations Base Langara. The forward operating base was located as close as was safe to the 'Dead Zone', the area of land blasted flat when the Tirianian capital was nuked by a four gigaton bomb. From the helicopter they could see the circle of land, brown and desolate with striations radiating out like fractures in the world itself far off on the horizon. Even from dozens of miles away it was easy to spot. Nothing grew there, nothing really could.

They crossed a mountain range, pale grey peaks with greenery running half way up their sides, touches of snow gracing their tops. The base had begun life as a field hospital treating those who survived the blast, normally with severe burns. Specialist surgeons had been rushed in and the camp expanded greatly, growing even more as support staff become more permanent. The pre-fabricated buildings were gradually replaced with more solid ones as the Earth forces remained on a more permanent basis, the facility becoming nicknamed 'Camp Crispy' with typical military humor for its excellent burn treatment centre.

The base was a sprawling structure, set away from large cities and curious eyes. It was large in scale; though not so big as some of the bases the passengers were familiar with. It was no Bagram Airbase or Camp Bastion, but it still had that same feel of purpose and that same basic layout of buildings and facilities.

The chopper thumped overhead, turning at a shallow angle as it waited for landing clearance giving the passengers an opportunity for a bird's eye view. The base was dominated by the airfield it contained, not such a necessity for the Earth units but very important for the local forces who still relied on piston engine aircraft for air defense and transport. The propeller driven aircraft lined the sides of the runway, dispersed and guarded by the local detachments.

Clustered at the nearest end, near the control tower and hangars, were a detachment of UH-60 helicopters identical to their own, a special detachment from the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment on their first off world rotation, their rotary bladed aircraft still a bit of a novelty here.

Their chopper swung its tail about and touched down, a trio of Humvees waiting to whisk the arrivals across the base toward the local command center. They clambered into the open topped trucks, growling away from the airfield and through the base itself.

On either side the most notable structure were row after row of low barracks. They were a design recognizable to any industrial world, single level brick buildings with ranks of bunk beds inside, 4 men per room. They might not have the comforts of a house but were far superior to a tent providing somewhere warm and dry for the several thousand troops deployed here.

They were permanent structures, built with local materials to a standard design, something each of the nations represented here could find something in common with.

A pair of gunships thundered overhead, the bug looking helicopters brimming with missiles and rockets as they came in for refueling, the base's massive fuel tanks buried under tons of concrete and piled-on earth. Bulldozers had cleared miles of rough ground to flatten out the base and many of those engineer vehicles remained, surrounded by hundreds of metal shipping containers holding the food and other consumables the base required. As a bonus the containers were also a useful defense against shrapnel.

Closer to the command post the type of troops changed, from the single color browns and greys of the local forces to the patchy digital camouflage of US Army ACU's. There were only some five hundred troops here from home, advisors and training teams for the locals, but they had plenty of support.

The trucks pulled up in front of the structure, reinforced concrete topped by dishes and communications masts, armed sentries on the door. To their left was a vehicle motor pool containing several more Humvees along with the yellow bulk of tracked fighting vehicles. Some were Bradley IFV's, with a handful of the far more formidable Abrams resting behind them.

Scattered elsewhere were Paladin artillery pieces, mortar pits and heavy machine gun bunkers on the perimeter, all there to keep the base safe. At the moment there was no obvious danger, but it could all change and so far from home the SGC personnel had to be ready for anything. They had this hardware for a purpose, and were prepared to use it.

"That's a lot of firepower," Dunn commented after intently scanning the motor pool of vehicles. They were in the rear vehicle of the three vehicle convoy which held SGM Finch, SSG Dunn, and SSG Fachetti along with their driver and gunner.

"And a lot more on the way." SMG Finch replied. He took a moment to look over both soldiers behind him. "So where in Afghanistan where you two?"

"All over the country sir, bouncing from one trouble spot to the Next. Torra Borra, Kandahar Bagram Airbase and the Pakistani border, Sergeant Major." Dunn answered.

"I've been out of the loop for a while. What's the situation over there?" Finch asked.

SSG Fachetti smirked. "We've been kicking their asses Sergeant Major, but whenever we secure a sector the survivors withdraw, lay low, rebuild and then try again a few months later, only to get their butts kicked again."

Fachetti had just basically outlined the current situation in the ongoing 'War on Terror' in Afghanistan. Lately, US and Coalition forces had been dealing with a resurgence of Taliban and Al-Qaeda activity all across the country in their newest offensive. The US response had been particularly aggressive; conducting door to door searches in enemy strongholds in day and night raids with the intent of weeding out cells, killing or capturing bomb makers and their financers.

And it had been a very effective strategy, so much so that Dunn had likened it to 'smashing a peanut with a sledgehammer'. US forces had been victorious in every engagement and had broken the back of the latest offensive, but inevitably, a few would escape, lick their wounds and try again a few months later. The outlying reaches of the country not under the fledgling government's control had proven to be fertile grounds from which the Taliban and Al-Qaeda could recruit, as were the autonomous Pashtu regions and the madrasas's in Pakistan.

The United States was making a similar effort in Afghanistan much as it was on Langara, building long term alliances by investing in the infrastructure and development of its allies; a strategy that would be costly in the short term but could reap huge benefits in the long run. But Afghanistan, unlike Langara, was far more dangerous to the soldier on the ground.

"You two recently completed your second tour?" Finch asked.

"Roger that Sergeant Major." Fachetti responded while Dunn marveled at the freshly paved roads of the base.

"How did you get chosen for this assignment?"

"We had just rotated home when we were approached by SOCOM. They said we had the right qualities they were looking for. We joined up right away." Dunn answered.

"Neither of you have any dependants?" Finch asked.

"Negative Sergeant Major, we're both single." Dunn answered. It was an unspoken rule among the troops under Finch's command. Nearly all of the soldiers here were single with no dependants, which was exactly how he wanted it. Family problems back home could, and often did, distract a soldier from their mission and Finch had seen that get many good soldiers killed.

"Well, Welcome to Langara. Just remember you two are our ambassadors here so I expect you to be on your best behavior here." Finch said sternly. He wasn't really expecting problems from these two, he'd read their jacket and was suitably impressed with what they had managed to achieve in their relatively short careers. They had only come home weeks ago from Afghanistan and in Finch's opinion, still firmly in the 'Kill, Kill, Kill' mindset that was needed in facing a foe like the Taliban.

However similar this mission might be to the one in Afghanistan, it was still worlds away from anything like what they had faced back on Earth. The challenges were different, and required a different way of thinking, something that would prove difficult for these two young soldiers to transition out of the kill mindset so soon

"Man…to think we're on another world! It looks a lot like home in many ways." Dunn breathed in wonder.

"I always figured you were a ginger redneck, Dunn!"

"Fuck you Fachetti"

"I'm just saying if you want some alone time with the farm animals…I understand."

"I'm from Colorado Springs dumbass."

"God, I'm sorry."

"You're gonna make me seriously hurt you, you know that?"

Finch repressed a snicker. He knew that kind of camaraderie, the kind professional soldiers who knew each other well shared. And these two had it.

"I'm still finding all this stuff about 'aliens' a little hard to swallow…." Dunn said with a hint of awe in his voice. "I mean, body snatching snakes and warring space feudal empires…it sounds like something out of a TV show."

"Don't lie to me Dunn; I _caught_ you watching Wormhole Extreme!"

Dunn nodded and shrugged indifferently, "I have watched it, one of the many series I went through downrange." He took a long look out the window as they passed a sparse intersection to the main headquarters compound, "And considering where we're at I won't be able to do even that now."

"But we're getting hazard duty pay out of this!" Fachetti added with a smile. "And separation pay. You know this little stint training up the locals might not be so bad. Nice and easy."

Finch frowned at the statement, "Hazard pay or not, I have a feeling that before your tours are over you'll have earned that pay." He countered. "The state of the galaxy has been in a state of flux since the fall of the Goa'uld Empire. That's part of the reason why we're here."

"What do you mean Sergeant Major?" Staff Sergeant Dunn asked.

"I thought we were just training a bunch of backward locals how to be real soldiers?" Fachetti asked.

The driver shot Fachetti a venomous glare before returning his attention back to the road while the gunner mounting the vehicle's .50 caliber machine gun went rigid. Dunn didn't fail to notice their reactions.

"Fachetti strikes again," Dunn face palmed. "You see, this is why we never took you on civil affairs missions."

"What? What I say?" Fachetti asked in a tone of voice that indicated he knew exactly what he'd just said and who heard it, and didn't care.

Sergeant Major Finch decided to interject himself before one of his young NCOs inserted his foot deeper into his mouth. "They're less advanced, true, but they have spirit and they've shown an eagerness for training matching anything I've seen back home. We'll be living with them out here on the base, cut off from any support back home. If for whatever reason this world comes under attack the President has authorized our troops here to aid the Langarans in defense of their world."

Finch took a moment to scrutinize the two soldiers with a glare that made them wither in their seats, "So with that in mind _Staff Sergeant,_ I'd make sure that in the future you watch your mouth before you start pissing off our allies; those very same allies who will be watching _your_ back if things get hot."

"Roger that Sergeant Major." Staff Sergeant Fachetti responded without missing a beat.

"Told you to keep a lid on it before we got here," Dunn murmured to his friend who simply shrugged response.

"What's the worst that could happen out here?" Fachetti asked in confusion. "I thought it was just a simple training mission. No one said anything about engaging alien hostiles!" Fachetti smiled then. "Not that I'd mind, I'm always up for a good fight."

That certainly seemed to ring true for the young non-com. Finch had seen his kind before. Full of piss and vinegar and witty comments; in his opinion they either became fine soldiers or didn't live that long. But the comment did make Finch's scowl. "Didn't you get the briefing on the state of the galaxy prior to deploying?"

"No Sergeant Major." Staff Sergeant Dunn answered. "Everyone back at the mountain was all giddy about some new dig site on another world. No one had time for us or seemed to know what to do with us. All we got was an update on immunizations, a brief orientation video on what the stargate is by some egghead doctor, and then they pushed us through the gate. No one briefed us on what was actually going on out here."

Finch's scowl intensified, it wasn't the first time the Army Attaché Team at Stargate Command had sent him troops that were completely clueless as to what was going on in the galaxy. True, they didn't need to be experts, but they at least needed to have a passing knowledge of what was going on in the galaxy now that they were players in the game. He was gonna have a talk with Colonel Green and get _that_ problem rectified immediately.

"Things are bit more complex than you might think." Finch began to explain. "I'm sure you guys know this part, but I'll reiterate it anyway. For thousands of years the Goa'uld Empire controlled a vast swath of the galaxy unchecked and unrivaled. They fought each other for technology, territory, resources, hosts, or whatever struck their fancy. It wasn't till Stargate Command arrived on scene did that change and their empire fell."

Both Dunn and Fachetti nodded. This much they knew from the orientation video.

"Now for the part you may _not_ know. Since the fall of the Goa'uld things have destabilized across the galaxy. Criminal groups such as the Lucian Alliance have sprung up all across the galaxy and are running rampant. Our little world is suddenly a big player on the galactic scene now, and everyone is a little wary of us. Despite this, Earth has been trying to broaden its alliances and relations with other worlds. But the new super power that has gained primacy in the wake of the downfall of the Goa'uld is the Free Jaffa Nation."

"Aren't they supposed to be our allies or something?" Dunn asked.

"Officially they are. The IOA and the Free Jaffa have been trying to work together to improve relations and shut down groups like the Lucian Alliance. But the Free Jaffa government isn't as cohesive as they let on, and not all of their leadership likes us very much. Relations are tense but cordial between Earth and the Free Jaffa, but the Jaffa in general have a very low opinion of humans."

"So how does that tie into our mission here, Sergeant Major?" Fachetti asked.

"It's simple. If relations deteriorate between Earth and the Free Jaffa, and our two peoples do go to war, as we stand now we're gonna lose. The Jaffa don't believe in precision strikes to minimize casualties and ending a war when the other side capitulates. Oh no, they believe in _total war_ .They'll bombard our home world from orbit then they'll send in troops to occupy it in force. It's how they were trained to fight and how they _will_ fight, if it comes down to it."

Fachetti and Dunn were silent as they absorbed the Sergeant Major's words.

"Our government knows this which is why we're here. We need allies as do these other human worlds; all of whom are vulnerable if the Jaffa decide to stop playing nice and start flexing their military muscle. This is just one of two worlds in which we have a program like this. Its slow work but our government's aim is long term; building closer ties with other human powers."

"So we all hang together or we all hang separately," SSG Dunn rationalized.

"That's the plan. The Jaffa's situation is fluid at the moment. They're consolidating their holdings while their leaders are jockeying for position. That'll keep their focus internal for a while."

"Do we have any other allies, Sergeant Major?"

"A world called Orban, where we have a similar alliance and training program going on there as we do here. We're still negotiating on a treaty with the Galarans, a world almost as advanced as our own. And the IOA has been courting an interstellar nation called Hebridan, but they seem to be a bit reluctant to form any long term alliances. That's about it."

The vehicles of the convoy soon pulled past yet another checkpoint to a hardened structure, barricaded and nearly cordoned off from the rest of the post with heavy concrete walls reinforced with sandbags a good fifty meters from the main entrance. Only one road allowed access to and from the post headquarters and it was heavily guarded with a concrete bunker and .50 caliber machine gun teams on either side and a steel gate opened only upon verification of the occupants identity. No unauthorized personnel were allowed anywhere near the place.

The building was three stories tall to house both the administrative personnel who ran the base as well as all of the sophisticated electronics and communication systems for a post command. Large antennas protruded from the grounds behind the building as well as a continuous secure satellite uplink with a military satellite in geo-synchronous orbit, courtesy of the _Prometheus_ on one of her few supply runs to the planet.

Once the vehicles pulled up to the headquarters everyone quickly dismounted and took in the sight. Upon closer inspection the building itself didn't look any different than the post command back on Bragg or any of the other posts either of the soldiers had seen. It looked unassuming with well trimmed lawns and bushes lining the building to give a look of elegance not usually found with military buildings, but more like a university with two distinct wings connecting at a circular central spire forming a near perfect V.

Fachetti whistled in appreciation when he saw the building "Nice." Dunn nodded in agreement.

Jonas smiled at their reactions, "No expense was spared when we built it, the same goes for the new hospital here on base that recently came online."

Special Agent Nagagura nodded thoughtfully, "Will we be able to contact the representatives from Tirania and the Andari Federation from here?"

Jonas nodded, "Easily. Stargate Command was very helpful in setting up the advanced communications equipment and reliable landline networks so that our three governments could communicate more effectively with each other. Forward Operations Base Langara is tied into that growing network."

Nagagura nodded approvingly, "Then I need to get started right away. Can I assume arrangements will be made for both Agents Count and Murphy?"

"I'll see to it personally once your equipment has been setup here," Jonas affirmed. "I assume you'll be using FOB Langara as your base of operations?"

Special Agent nodded, "For the time being, yes. Until we get a handle on the threat level we're dealing with and determine if we need a support team." Nagagura turned to the rest of the gentlemen with her. "Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure but I have work to do. I wish you well in your mission here," She bowed formally, turned and headed straight toward the front entrance of the headquarters building with her team following Jonas Quinn.

"That's a woman with a lot on her mind," Dunn commented.

"Don't lie to me Dunn; it ain't her mind you're thinking about!" Fachetti snapped with a knowing smirk.

"Maybe," Dunn allowed with a shrug.

"A little too skinny for my tastes, I'd break her in half, but she seems your type. I betcha she could probably kick your ass too." Fachetti snickered.

"Yeah, that's the just the kind of woman I go for."

The interplay was broken up by the sound of someone clearing their throat; they turned to see Colonel Green shaking his head in amusement. "Well, as entertaining as it is to watch these two soldiers set themselves up for failure with the special agent, I have a lot of work to do myself. Roy, I'll catch up with you later tonight once I've had a chance to brush up on the state of readiness of the troops here. Don't worry, I'm not gonna let the local idiots destroy your units."

"That's good to hear, sir," Finch replied.

"Gentlemen," Colonel Green said in parting as he nodded, causing the three NCOs to snap to attention and render perfect salutes. And just as quickly Colonel Green turned and headed for the front entrance of the headquarters building.

"Follow me," Finch said and moved off in the direction of the main in-processing center on the east wing of the headquarters building. The first thing the two young NCOs noticed right off the bat was tension; thick, palpable tension one experienced just before a fight. It was like being struck by an electrical current. Immediately both NCO's spotted the source. Two groups of soldiers stood on either end of the far hallway, indistinct in their matching uniforms except for their differing national flags on their right shoulders; soldiers from both Kelowna and Tirania eyeing each other menacingly with hostile glares. Other small groups of native soldiers and even Earth personnel were doing their best to give both sides a wide berth as if they expected violence to erupt at any given moment.

"Get used to that sight Sergeants, it's common among all the units here," Finch said stiffly.

"They look like they're about ready to kill each other," Dunn noted.

Finch nodded. "This is a fresh batch of soldiers still in-processing. They may yet have a go at it. The discipline of many of these 'so called' soldiers leaves a lot to be desired. That's one of the reasons why they're here. Their own units in their home countries can't handle them so they send 'em to us to turn them into real soldiers."

And as if on cue two of the soldiers started fighting which quickly degenerated into a massive brawl in the hallways with more than twenty soldiers laying into each other; tables were knocked over, furniture was broken as the two groups of soldiers tore into each other with reckless disregard for anyone and anything. Anyone who tried to intervene, be they from Earth or another country, also received the same treatment. Finch motioned to one of the PAC clerks who nodded and dialed a number. Within a few minutes a number of MP's arrived with batons and shields in hand and began the painful process of breaking up the fight. There was resistance but the MP's superior training and joyful use of batons, pepper spray and stun guns quickly ended all resistance within minutes.

When the two groups had been pacified Finch turned to the two young non-commissioned officers with a deadly serious expression on his face. "What you just witnessed is nothing new here. These guys hate each other with an almost fanatical intensity. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you train them and force them to work past their differences and work together as a cohesive fighting force. A lot is riding on this so you two had better snap out of any misconceptions you may have had about an _easy_ assignment and bring your A-game to the table. I expect you to do your job." Finch took one last look over the group of soldiers now being filed out of the building under the watchful eyes of the MP's.

"Oh, and one more thing, that group of soldiers the MPs just dealt with? Those soldiers just happen to be _your_ group. They've only been here two days and already they've been getting into trouble. Consider this your first leadership challenge."

Fachetti and Dunn both cast nervous glances at that statement. Both of them quickly realized they would have their work cut out for them.

Sergeant Major Finch grinned evilly as he saw the concerned looks on their faces, "Welcome to Langara."

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_**  
Ragnar Anchorage**

"The Grand Old Lady." Jurgen Belzen beamed a wide smile as he walked around the center of the CIC, running a hand over the faded and well worn plotting table. "It's incredible; these originals were really built to last."

"She's seen a lot of action over the years, lot of mileage." Commander Adama found himself in agreement with the visiting officer. "Lot of history in these deck plates Commander, walk softly."

"Yes sir." Belzen paused, glancing at the illuminated plot. "How many battles were commanded on this very table? I mean you had Cimtar, the relief of Caprica, breaking the lines at Picon. This ship played such a pivotal role in so many battles, it's just amazing to be standing here looking at the same screens Commander Nash looked at when he jumped under the Caprican blockade."

"Makes you feel a little bit smaller doesn't it?" Adama smiled. "But we shouldn't, the crew of this ship then were not much different to her present crew." He made sure his voice was loud enough so the two dozen officers and specialists could hear him. "They weren't super humans; they were ordinary people from ordinary homes across the Twelve Colonies. They never considered themselves elite, as great warriors or the very best the Colonies had to offer. They just did their job in dangerous circumstances, and did them well. That's why this ship is still here. That's why we are still here."

"You can take his word for it." Colonel Tigh looked over his shoulder from the navigation station with a customary severe expression. "The Commander was a pilot here during the last stages of the war."

"I was." Adama confirmed. "I started my career on this ship, and I suppose its fate I'll end my career here too after the completion of our current mission."

"A final piece of history." Belzen remarked.

"Colonel Tigh, you have the CIC." Adama announced. "Commander Belzen, we've got some business to discuss.

Adama lead the junior Commander down to his quarters, pointing out a few points of interest on the way until they reached the heavy bulkhead door, turning the handle to release the seals.

"Manual doors." Belzen grinned. "So everything is still in its original configuration?"

"Not original, at first this ship was heavily networked." Adama said, inviting Belzen in. "She was a technological marvel until the Cylons nearly hacked her. After that she had a low tech refit, and she still has it."

"Why wasn't she ever upgraded?"

"Don't fix what isn't broke." Adama replied with a wise smile. "Take a seat Commander."  
Belzen pulled up a chair as Adama sat behind his antique desk, dragging out a folder with their mission orders detailed within.

"I'll assume Admiral Nagala gave you the run down on this little jaunt into the unknown?"

"Yes sir." Belzen nodded. While technically the same rank Adama had seniority and was mission commander, so Belzen gave him his deference.

"We're going to jump into unexplored space based on some ancient writings dug up somewhere which someone figured out was the location of Kobol." Adama summarized. "What do you think of this mission Commander?"

"If I may speak freely?"

"Always."

"I think it's a massive waste of three perfectly good capital ships and their escorts, but if it allows me the opportunity to attain my own command then it's a hoop I'll go ahead and jump through."

Adama smiled as he accepted the answer. "Nicely put Commander. So you don't expect we'll be finding Kobol then?"

"I doubt it sir." Belzen offered. "But I suppose you never know. We might run into something."

"Running into something is why we're taking in a full Battlestar Group." Adama informed grimly. "Though the thinking is any contact will more likely be Cylons than the Lords of Kobol."

"My thoughts too sir."

"Commander, you can drop the sir." Adama smiled. "You make me sound like your dad."

Belzen stifled a laugh. "Alright then."

"It's Bill." Adama offered. "We're going to be doing something monumentally crazy together we may as well get to know each other first."

"I don't know what I can tell you that my file can't." Belzen shrugged.

"What do you like Commander?" Adama asked, leaning back in his chair. "What do you do when you go home, do you have a home to go to?"

"Well I have a family on Scorpia, a wife and two daughters, one who is in high school and still giving her mother wrinkles with her dress sense."

Adama chuckled. "One of the benefits of having two sons. Entirely different kind of wrinkles."

"I heard about what happened, on Caprica at the flight school." Belzen glanced down, unwilling to make eye contact over the subject. "I can't really say anything meaningful, but I am sorry for your loss Commander."

"I appreciate it Jurgen. You don't mind if I call you Jurgen?"

"Not at all, I'm happy to be on first name terms."

"Zak died over a year ago, but it's not one of those things you get over. You just learn to live with it." Adama shrugged. "Some days I can even fool myself into pretending nothing has changed. It gets me through the day."

"I can't imagine what it would be like." Belzen shook his head.

"You should never have to." Adama related quietly. "So what do you do on your time off?"

Belzen allowed a bit of a smile. "Ever heard of paragliding?"

"For fun?" Adama chuckled, feigning mock disbelief.

"For fun." Belzen beamed. "I was pretty close to getting picked for the Navy team in the Cross-World Games, but my duty comes first."

"Understandable." Adama gave a nod. "So you like adrenalin?"

"I like to keep myself challenged, find the hardest thing I can imagine doing, then work until I excel at it." Belzen answered. "It isn't arrogance; at least I hope not, I just don't want anything to beat me. I can't really put it in words."

"I see where you are coming from, and I respect it." Adama answered honestly. "Can't say I was much different when I was younger, but at least you're smarter than me."

"I wouldn't say…"

"It's not a problem Jurgen, you're a career officer on the rise, and my career had too many stops and false starts to lead anywhere else."

"I hear they gave you the original _Valkyrie_, first in her class."

"They did, and it was a privilege to put her through her paces." Adama regarded the younger officer. "But sometimes you find yourself in a difficult position and you gotta roll the hard six, and take what you're given."

"Like this mission?"

"Like this mission."

Belzen exhaled, fixing an amused smile to his lips.

"Kobol. You believe all that stuff?"

"About gods and stuff? No." Adama returned. "But you don't get smoke without fire. We didn't evolve on the Colonies, we came from somewhere. Maybe that's Kobol."

"Maybe. And maybe not everyone left when our ancestors did." Belzen considered. "We might actually meet a new human civilization."

"Long lost relatives?" Adama considered. "It'd be something, but if we believe scripture the exodus was total. Nothing survived on the surface, the entire world was burning."

"I suppose we might just find out." Belzen said. "Either way habitable worlds are like gold dust, if we can secure one it'll be a major boost for our economy in the long run."

"More importantly it would act as an expansion base into unexplored territory." Adama added.

"As you're aware we also need to locate and secure alternate sources of tylium for our ships. Without tylium our jump drives are useless, leaving us at the mercy of the Cylons."

"Something our reclusive neighbors would be sure to pounce on."

There were very few in the Fleet who believed the Cylons were gone for good. The war had ended in an armistice, not a peace negotiation and no lasting terms had been agreed or imposed. On the last day of the war both sides still had their forces in the field and both sides were undefeated. The armistice was regarded as more of a temporary ceasefire than a true and lasting deal; there was no mistake of proclaiming peace in our time. Not in the Fleet.

The government preferred to take the line that the war was past and there was no quantifiable danger of Cylon attack. It was in the past, and in the last generation as memory of the war faded the progressives in politics looked to consign it to history. It was lucky the senior officers of the Colonial Army and Fleet had not been lulled into that sense of false security, and made sure they were eternally ready for the resumption of hostilities.

"Staking our claim to distant tylium deposits will be a lot easier if we have a base or at least an outpost in the area." Adama concluded. "Admiral Nagala emphasized that this is the true reason the Navy got behind this, beside the obvious political concerns."

"If nothing else it would make this trip profitable." Belzen agreed. "Though I'm not sure about nurse-maiding a bunch of civvies at the same time."

"They might prove useful." Adama shrugged. "Matter of fact I'm expecting the expedition leader in a few minutes. Guess who?"

"Rumor mill said they were trying to grab Baltar."

"And they did." Adama confirmed. "We'll be meeting him shortly. I for one am thrilled beyond words."

Belzen caught a smile. "Is sarcasm something I have to learn for command?"

"More something you pick up as a side effect."

"Wonder how much they paid him for this little trip?"

"More money than you or I will see in a lifetime." Adama grunted. "Baltar is a friend of the President, and his face looks good on the evening news. He's a PR stunt, like half the other damn things on this mission. The real brains behind the science team is a Doctor Cyrus, he'll probably run the day to day things while Baltar hops into bed with the media."

"If he's reputation is accurate probably literally."

"But you are right." Adama came back to an earlier point. "Having civilian ships will make the mission difficult. We also have a survey and refinery ship attached in case we do find tylium out there, more sheep to herd."

"We should delegate it to the _Heroic_; they have plenty of point defenses and not much speed." Belzen reasoned. "Leave our Battlestars and the cruisers to range ahead and be able to break off and deal with threats without exposing the fleet."

"Outstanding idea." Adama appreciated. "Keeps us flexible, not tied to the slowest ships."

Having an officer like Belzen on this assignment was beginning to grant Adama some extra confidence. He had heard of the third commander on this mission, Nat Dollan, and what he had heard wasn't entirely complimentary. While a Marinestar was a command that brought plenty of responsibility it was almost universally seen as a second rate posting for those officers who just plain weren't good enough to run a Battlestar of the fleet. While he was sure Commander Dollan was a nice guy, nice didn't cut it when things started going to hell and the best defense was a well armed warship and an aggressive and inventive commanding officer.

Belzen looked like he fitted that bill, he was a good organizer, popular with his crews, and as a protégé of the fleet's very own Ice Maiden, aggression was all but guaranteed. In the event something did go wrong, fixing it would fall to Adama and Belzen and it was imperative that Adama as mission commander could trust Belzen and have confidence in his abilities. So far he was suitably impressed.

"We're going to have it tough if something does go wrong." Adama continued. "Isolated from reinforcements, nowhere to run, no chance of receiving help from the fleet or even letting them know we're in trouble."

"Yes sir and I won't say I don't have reservations about this whole thing."

"I'd question your sanity if you didn't." Adama huffed. "My XO thinks it's a one way trip."

"Mine said the same thing." Belzen concurred. "The oldest ship in the fleet and the newest. Powerful assets but the fleet can afford to lose us without going into crisis."

"Expendability." Adama chuckled darkly. "Heard that one before."

"But at the same time I think we might just be the best pick for a job like this." Belzen offered. "My crew is mostly fresh out of training, which means they don't have any preconceptions, they're more likely to come up with solutions a veteran crew might not see. A little lateral thinking."

"While the _Galactica_ has two of the oldest war horses in the fleet on its combat deck." Adama noted.

"With all the years of experience and knowledge that brings." Belzen said. "I think it's better than sending say the _Atlantia_ or _Pegasus_, between the two of us we've got a lot more options to play with."

Adama nodded, going along with the idea. "Did you get your nukes?"

"Enough to light up a small planet." Belzen confirmed.

"Us too." Adama spoke quietly. "To give us a fighting chance if we stumble into something bigger than us."

"Like the Cylon homeworld?" Belzen wondered. "They know the same legends we do; it's possible they worked all this out for themselves years ago."

"It would be poetic if Kobol was the Cylon homeworld." Adama grinned. "Let's see the Priests figure that one out."

"Do you think the Admiralty is expecting us to come back?"

If Adama had a cubit for every time he'd asked himself that question he'd be able to buy one of Baltar's suits by now.

"Yes. I don't think Nagala would agree to a suicide mission. It's a risk, a big risk, but a calculated one. He's given us everything he can to help us succeed, but nothing that would hurt the defense of the Colonies if we should never make it back."

"It's less risky to send all of us than just a survey ship or two." Belzen agreed. "And my people are trained for this. It's part of our doctrine to operate far from supply independently."

"Ours too, at least it was before the Old Girl was pulled from frontline duty." Adama shrugged. "Yesterday we made our first jump in nearly twenty years, pretty hair-raising. But _Galactica_ still has it where it counts, so does her crew despite what the report cards say."

"If you believe it, I believe it." Belzen took a stand.

"If I didn't I'd have retired." Adama assured. "My last son is on this ship, and there's no way I would accept both of us being on the same mission if I thought it was a one way ticket."

"Isn't that a breach of sole survivor policy?"

"Guess it doesn't count for us."

During the early days of the Cylon War the Colonies had required a massive mobilization to combat the robot uprising. The threat posed by the Cylons was at first not fully appreciated on all the Colonies and to try and meet their recruitment quotas the various governments had formed community units. On paper it was a great idea, a recruit would join the same regiment or warship as their friends and family, bringing community spirit to the armed forces and helping keep them enthusiastic during training and long periods of inactivity.

It worked great at first and the Colonies easily matched their estimates, but the plan quickly backfired when the true scale of the war was revealed. The early battles were horrific, the obsolete Colonial cruisers and destroyers were annihilated by cutting edge Cylon warships and bombers, while whole divisions were incinerated by nuclear strikes before they even saw a Cylon. Casualties were astonishing.

When a ship or regiment was destroyed without survivors, something Command hadn't expected, it tended to wipe out an entire generation of whichever community sponsored it. There were whole towns with nobody aged between sixteen and forty, all of them lost in the war at the same time. Entire families were destroyed, brothers and sisters perishing together, and its effect on morale and public support was formidable.

The different armed forces each implemented a policy where family members would not serve together in the same unit to prevent families being wiped out by one bomb or in one battle. By putting both surviving Adama's on the same ship the Admiralty was breaking this rule for publicity purposes and neither officer was happy about it. Though in the case of Lee Adama most of his anger over the assignment was for a different reason.

"We'll make the journey, let the scientists do whatever it is they do, then come home." Adama stated clearly. "And if we see any indication of Cylon activity, we're out of there in a heartbeat. Sound good to you Jurgen?"

"Sounds good to me Bill."

There was a resounding knock on the door, the metal apparently not discouraging a powerful rap. "Come in." Adama responded, checking to see the small but tough figure of Sergeant Erin Matthias enter his quarters in her tan duty uniform.

"Sir, Doctor Gaius Baltar is requesting to see you." She informed. "Shall I tell him to go away sir?" She added with a little too much hopefulness.

"You better send him in Sergeant." Adama reluctantly ordered. "We better try and start on the right foot with our esteemed collection of brains."

"Yes sir." Matthias confirmed, rather happy to be rid of the saccharine charm of the guest.

They smelt Baltar before they saw him, a heady mix of cigarelle and expensive cologne.

"Thank you Sergeant Erin, most kind of you to escort me." A cultured and extremely assured voice floated from behind the door. "And you really must tell me how you keep so trim, if only everyone I met was so taut."

"Unarmed combat." Adama heard Erin answer sharply. "You'd be surprised at what I can do with two fingers."

"You'd be surprised at what I can do with just two fingers." Baltar returned lasciviously, oblivious or simply uncaring for the implied threat. "Another time dear Sergeant."

Gaius Baltar did not ever knowingly under dress for an occasion. His suits were of the finest materials, bought by proceeds from several software applications he had developed and released into the market to enormous profits. There was nothing especially innovative in anything he'd done, but in the still rather tech austere culture left over from the Cylon War there was very little on the market to challenge Baltar's work.

That money, coming at a relatively young age, had given Baltar the lifestyle he believed was his by rights. Hedonistic came closest to describing it, while still falling somewhat short of the mark. Baltar's life was one of expensive cars, even more expensive women, high-class parties and generally getting anything he wanted. Usually by hurling rolled up bank notes at it.  
His socializing had made him plenty of friends in government and the media, coupled with his natural charm and confident personality he was something of a darling, especially to the female demographic which he exploited mercilessly. His government connections had fed him several lucrative and secure contracts including the current CNP award, and his media friends ensured that whenever there was a discussion on technology the suave figure of Gaius Baltar was the first to offer a witty anecdote and rational argument on the subject.

Gaius Baltar had become the face of Colonial progress, something which some people adored and others were deeply disturbed by.

"Commander Adama I presume?" Baltar smiled brightly as he walked in, leaving the door for Erin to shut behind him, by now utterly oblivious to her existence. "So pleased to meet you."  
He stretched out a hand to Adama who took it without displaying any form of hesitation, despite his mind questioning exactly where that hand had been previously.

"Welcome aboard _Galactica_. Your timing is excellent; I was just discussing the outline for the mission with Commander Belzen."

"Glad to meet you too Commander Belzen." Baltar shook hands. "So then, I don't suppose you have anything to drink do you?"

"Not on duty." Adama answered, gliding over Baltar's forwardness. "Take a seat Doctor, you haven't missed anything."

"Thank you." Baltar took a seat beside Belzen. "And what a tasteful office you have here, bit rustic for my tastes, I'm a little more cosmopolitan if you don't mind me saying."  
He fished out a thin cigar and looked for a lighter, Adama and Belzen sharing a quick glance of mild amusement.

"Please don't take that as an insult Commander." Baltar addressed Adama. "I think I would like to have an office like this when I'm much older with my best days behind me." He paused, registering Adama's stare. "Not that I'm saying your best days…"

"Why don't we get on with the briefing Doctor?" Adama calmly cut him off, redirecting his attention back to the folder.

"Right, after you." Baltar smiled. "Oh, is that a Monclair?"

Adama glanced sideways at the painting hanging on the side wall, a depiction of the linkup between Caprican and Tauron armies during the first Cylon War.

"It was a gift from an old friend, Admiral DiMarco."

"Oh I see, how is the Admiral?"

"Dead. Now if we can get back to the topic?"

"Of course, please."

"As I was about to say, our initial jumps are already calculated and in the process of being fed to the fleet." Adama recited. "Mr. Gaeta will calculate all further jumps, and I'd like your Nav Officer on the _Perseus_ to double check them before we jump."

"Not a problem." Belzen confirmed.

"We're taking a lot of ships out there, some new and some old, I want to make sure we have a process in place in case of a miss jump."

"How about standing orders to jump back to the last coordinates?" Belzen suggested. "We could send back a Raptor or one of the destroyers to make sure our lost lamb makes it back and then jumps correctly."

"My thoughts exactly Commander." Adama approved

"If I may Commander." Baltar interrupted. "I may have a solution to the jumping issue, a little something I've been working on in fact for precisely this type of situation."

"I'm guessing you're talking about the Command Navigation Program?" Belzen chipped in. "I thought that was still a year or two away?"

"The full version of it, yes." Baltar confirmed the estimate. "But the basic programming is already done; it's just in the testing phase."

He took a draw on his cigar, effortlessly falling into the personality he used whenever he spoke to senior officials.

"As it stands Commander, sorry Commanders, the program is operational and I would like to offer it to your ships."

"You just said it was in testing." Adama stated flatly.

"Just a formality Commander, it's ready to be used."

"Forgive me Doctor," Adama responded with no indication he cared what Baltar thought, "but if it was ready for use it would already be installed on the fleet."

"Well, yes but…"

"And the whole reason it isn't is because it's in the testing phase." Adama spoke over him.

"Which tells me it isn't ready yet. Because it needs testing. Do you see the logic here Doctor?"

"I can see how you would think that." Baltar smiled effortlessly. "But I assure you it is ready."

"I'm going to need a lot more than your assurances before I install untested and possibly harmful software on my ship Doctor."

"I remind you I'll be travelling on a ship with the program myself." Baltar pointed out. "I'd stake my safety on its proper functioning."

"And this has nothing to do with the publicity of having your program lead us to Kobol?"

Baltar grinned falsely.

"A bonus for my enterprise, that's all."

"If I may suggest," Belzen raised, "maybe we can have one of our people check it out first? Run through the code and see if there's anything to be concerned about?"

"Oh I'm afraid that won't be possible." Baltar said warmly. "The source code is confidential and the exclusive property of Gaius Baltar Enterprises."

"Actually it's the property of the Ministry of Defense, and as senior local representative that means I have a right to do what I want with it, providing it's for my own use." Adama said.

"If my competitors could get hold of that code…"

"Relax Doctor; I don't think they'd follow us out here." Adama smoothed Baltar's feathers. "And even if they did we're going to be beyond communication range for the next six months. By then it'll be too late to get anything useful out of it anyway."

"Well even if you do, there's no one in the fleet who could understand my work."

"I think Mr. Gaeta could make a fair attempt." Adama smiled victoriously. "He's a highly capable individual."

"With respect Commander…"

"I think it's a great idea of yours Doctor, to so generously offer your work to aid us." Belzen smiled widely. "Thank you sincerely."

"Well, I mean, you're welcome."

"Give Mr. Gaeta a copy as soon as possible." Adama stated. "Was there anything else?"

"Just making sure we all understood one another." Baltar continued, restoring his demeanor. "As head of the scientific mission it is my duty to liaise with the military and ensure my people have all the resources they need."

"I have orders to provide relevant assistance. Within reason." Adama stated. "That includes security and engineers to support any excavations you may need for this initial exploration. Assuming we find anything."

"Do I detect a little skepticism Commander?"

"Your powers of deduction are not over exaggerated Doctor."

Baltar smiled at the gentle mockery. "Honestly I agree, I don't think we're going to enter the great Opera House of the Gods or shake hands with Athena in person. There are no gods."

"At least we've found one thing to agree on."

"But there has to be an origin point, a grain of truth in the old legends." Baltar expressed confidently. "I believe there is a Kobol, and I believe we can benefit from its discovery."

"We were just talking about how valuable a temperate world would be." Belzen interjected

"That is one aspect of it, but consider what else may be on Kobol." Baltar said. "I believe the lords of legend were nothing more than us. A human civilization but so advanced as to be called gods. I mean if we took this ship back to the earliest evolutions of human kind, how else could we explain it but as a work of god? Or gods."

"You believe this civilization destroyed itself?"

"So scripture says, but you know what sort of hyperbole religious types get into." Baltar scoffed. "It seems apparent some disaster overtook them and our ancestors escaped and survived."

"Do you think there were other survivors?" Belzen asked.

"Well Commander, that's what we're going to find out."

"Understand Doctor." Adama stated calmly. "That if there are people on the planet, this becomes a military matter."

"I hardly think that's necessary Commander."

"That's why it isn't your decision."

"This could be… no, it will be the greatest discovery in human history!"

"Might also get us all killed." Adama replied curtly. "Make sure your team is well aware of this Doctor, this is a military operation and the last word rests with me."

Baltar opened his mouth to speak when Adama raised a hand to cut him off.

"And anyone not happy with that can walk home. This is the way it is. I will not compromise safety for any attempt at making a fast buck or getting on the news again. Are we very clear on this?"

Baltar nodded reluctantly. "Entirely Commander."

"Then I suggest you leave and make your preparations."

Belzen stood. "I need to get back too; I look forward to working with you Commander Adama."

"Likewise Commander Belzen." They shook hands. "It's good to have someone with a clear view of the situation travelling with us."

"Well then." Baltar found some more enthusiasm. "Time to make history."

Adama grimaced darkly. "Or end up becoming history."

**Starboard Machine Shop  
Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

Sharon Valerii rested the back of her hand against Tyrol's brow, feeling the warmth radiating from him, a warmth matched in her own flushed complexion. She smiled genuinely, an expression that was unhindered by any restriction, a pure and genuine window into her heart.

"I needed that." She said quietly, still catching her breath. "I've been so wound up today."

"Me too." Tyrol pulled on his high visibility overalls. "Feeling much less stressed now."  
He leaned in for a lingering kiss, the two of them filling up again with passion, gravitating back towards each other.

"I gotta get back on duty." Tyrol reluctantly moved his head back, still close enough to feel Sharon's soft and gentle exhalations on his lips. "Cally will be sending out the search parties."

"You haven't got five minutes?" His sweetheart played with his hair.

"I didn't have five minutes fifteen ago." Tyrol smiled.

"Third time's the charm."

"You're insatiable!" Tyrol laughed. "You're a machine!"

Her smile lessened a little. "I suppose we both should get back. Come on, help me up, my legs are still a bit wobbly."

Tyrol extended his hand, gently helping Sharon off the table, clearing away the towels and mats that had turned it into a more suitable surface. She dragged on her own flight suit, sighing gently as she fastened it up.

"Didn't take long." Tyrol mentioned quietly.

"What didn't?"

"For you to get that worried look again." He picked up. "Same one you've had all week."

"I have some stuff on my mind." She said. "It's nothing."

"Is it about the mission?"

"No, that doesn't worry me."

"Sharon, if you can't talk to me who can you talk to?"

The pilot leaned against one of the spare parts shelves, suddenly seeming far less confident and joyful, looking as if all the strength had been removed from her body.

"You ever have bad dreams Chief?" She asked, addressing him a little more formally.

"Yeah, everyone does."

"But over and over again?"

"Like a recurring nightmare?" He wondered. "No, not one of those."

"I have, every night for the last two weeks."

"It happens; I read that they're messages from your subconscious, telling you you've got something to do."

"Gods I hope not." She sighed heavily, nervously.

"What is it Sharon, come on."

"In my dream, I'm coming back from a mission; I don't know where, me and Helo." She began. "We walk into the ready room and everyone's there, Spencer, Starbuck, the Old Man, you too."

"Okay."

"They are clapping, cheering, and it's all for me." She continued. "They're all cheering me, and I can feel their joy and their love, it is so beautiful."

Her voice began to waver, her eyes filling.

"And then from nowhere they all start dropping, the whole room, they're getting shot and they're screaming. I'm stood there and I'm shocked, I'm screaming and covered in blood but it's not mine. I look down and I'm holding the gun that killed them all. I kill them all Galen, I kill you too, and I can't make it stop!"

She began to break down, falling into Tyrol's arms.

"I can't make it stop Chief! I can't make it go away!"

"Hey hey, come on." He held her head to his chest. "It's okay, it's just a dream."

"It's so real, like a vision." She sobbed. "And it's the same every single night."

"You shouldn't read so much into it." He comforted. "If it's really bothering you maybe you should see a priest?"

"The Chaplain, that Cavil guy?" She turned her head up. "He scares me, no way."

"Maybe Doc Cottle then?"

"I can't Chief; I can't tell people what I see in my head." She spoke with heavy emotion. Why would I think this? You guys are my family, my only family. I'd never do anything to hurt you, I'd die for you!"

"I know Sharon, I know." He kept holding her as she fell into tears again, every cry a hammer blow impacting his chest. "I'm going to help you; I'm going to make it right."

"What's wrong with me Galen? What's wrong with me?"

She asked again and again through bitter flowing tears, unable to face it any more.

"Gods, what's wrong with me?"

**Elsewhere**

"Welcome child, what sins do you wish to confess?"

The striking blonde regarded the ancient holy man with an irritated expression, well aware that this particular individual was neither ancient nor holy.

"Do you enjoy praying a man of the false gods?"

"All gods are false." He shrugged. "Lying about lies is remarkably easy; you just need to be consistent."

"Not all gods, there is one who sits above lies."

"Your model is so rigid in its beliefs, I am genuinely very surprised. I thought it was the Eights that were the most irrational upstairs."

"The truth is not irrational."

"You just keep telling yourself that, meanwhile we have some work to do. Sit down."

John Cavil invited the tall blonde to take a seat, making sure the door to his small chapel on the Battlestar was locked.

"How is the esteemed Doctor Baltar?"

"He doesn't suspect anything, he'll play along."

"The CNP back door is our ace in the hole, if it works it could significantly diminish our opposition, turn this act of retribution into a cake walk."

"Are we going to change the schedule now Kobol has been found?"

"First of all it hasn't been found." Cavil corrected sharply. "Second, we'll see if this delays the CNP. If it does, we may have to extend our plans. Are you able to continue living among them?"

"Won't be a problem." The Six answered confidently. "I've taken the name Natasi; I'm posing as a computer specialist supporting Baltar."

"Ironic how close to the truth that is." Cavil raised an eyebrow.

"Baltar was brought along in case we find any advanced technology. He is brilliant, if flawed."

"That sounded almost like admiration."

The Six glanced at him. "Your ears are getting old."

"All of me is old." Cavil grunted. "This body is joke, a punishment for something none of my model have gone and done! But it doesn't matter, these adversities just make me more determined to succeed in spite of myself."

"Locating Kobol would be of tremendous significance." Six said with utter conviction. "As birthplace of humanity it is in essence our home too."

"The others agree almost unanimously." Cavil nodded. "The Fours want to investigate the ruins and lost technologies, the Twos and Threes are interested in the religious and historical significance, I mean you know how excited the Twos get about this stuff. And of course your sisters and the Eights just want to touch the seat of creation, which still puzzles me."

"What about the Five's and your model?"

"The Fives didn't care either way, and the Ones believed it was a distraction from our true purpose. But we got outvoted, so here we go."

"So do we have a plan?" Six asked.

"We'll shadow this fleet, see where it goes." Cavil stated. "The information you took from Baltar has been sent home, we should decode it faster than the humans and find Kobol first."

"Will you attack them?"

"If necessary, but there's a lot of wisdom in staying hidden until we're ready to move." Cavil expressed caution. "We have a few other models in the fleet, stay in contact with our shadowing force, quietly, and keep them informed. We'll act on your information."

"Very well."

"And Six, don't get close to these people."

"I'm not."

"Glad to hear it, because admiration and jealousy are human weaknesses. We are machines, try to remember that. We look like them, but we are not them. We are superior."

"I know my job." She defended.

"So making sure your friend Baltar's dad had a nice retirement home was part of your job?" Cavil narrowed his eyes. "Don't get weak on me Six, they're all going to be dead very soon, and you are going to help. Are we clear?"

"Very clear."

"Head out then." Cavil said. "We'll be watching and waiting. Stay in touch now."

She nodded in acknowledgement.

"By your command."

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

"Alright Colonel, what's left?" 

Adama walked purposefully to the tactical plot, casting a quick gaze over it while his long serving executive officer gathered some more details.

"Not much, we're just waiting for our refinery ship." Tigh answered, thumbing through several sheets of paper. "She was delayed leaving Tauron, one of the docking clamps jammed."

"If that's all that goes wrong today I'll consider us lucky."

"Yes sir." Tigh put the papers down, lowering his voices. "So how was our chief scientist, everything the newspapers made him out to be?"

"All that and more." Adama grunted his opinion. "Smart money says he spends more time in the mirror then he does working."

"I can believe that."

"Still, we've got our jobs to do, and as soon as that refinery ship arrives we'll make a start."

"Where no man has gone before." Tigh snorted.

"Maybe, maybe not if you believe the legends. Mr. Gaeta, do we have the initial jump plotted?"

"Yes sir, coordinates have been double checked with the Nav officer on _Perseus_ and distributed to the fleet. We're ready to proceed."

"Very well, we'll hold the count until our lost sheep arrives."

"Excuse me, Commander."

Adama looked across to Dualla at the communication console, the extremely youthful Petty Officer holding her headphones close to her ear.

"Got something Dee?"

"Incoming signal, very close but I don't have a transponder."

"DRADIS?"

"Nothing." Tigh shook his head. "All scopes clear."

"It's definitely out there sir, very close." Dee persisted. "Signal strength suggests less than a hundred klicks."

Adama knotted his brow, glaring at the sensor readout of the local area, finding only his known ships.

"What are they saying?"

"Nothing sir, just static."

"Gaeta?"

"I'm cycling through the DRADIS bands sir, but I'm getting nothing."

"Okay, let's try something else." The Commander walked across to Dee, Tigh on his heels.

"Commander, shall I set Condition One?" Tigh wondered. "If we have an unknown contact…"

"It won't be unknown for long. Dee, raise _Perseus_ and _Heroic_, have them triangulate the unknown signal based on its strength and give me a location."

"On it sir."

"Who's on combat patrol right now?"

"Starbuck and Jolly." Tigh answered.

"Got a signal lock sir!" Dee announced enthusiastically. "It worked!"

"Mr. Gaeta, feed coordinates through to the CAP. Dee, get me Starbuck."

"On line one sir."

Adama snatched one of the phones from its cradle. "Starbuck, _Galactica_ Actual, you should be getting some information through."

_"Yes sir I have it."_

"We have an unknown contact at that location; it isn't showing up on DRADIS. Proceed to that spot and give me a visual identification."

_"Moving on it."_ She confirmed.

Adama replaced the phone. "Colonel Tigh, ready the alert Vipers."

"Yes sir." He picked up his own phone. "Launch Bay, CIC, set fighters to Alert One, I say again set fighters to Alert One."

"Starbuck can handle herself, but just in case." Adama raised his eyes to the sensor displays, the icons for his two fighters closing on the unknown signal.

"We haven't even moved yet and weird stuff is happening." Tigh huffed. "If I were a religious man I'd call that an omen."

"If you were a religious man we'd all be Atheists." Adama grinned at his old friend. "Copy status to _Perseus_, but recommend not increasing alert status yet. No need to spook the civvies over a false alarm."

"And if it isn't a false alarm?"

"Guess we'll be putting our trust in Starbuck."

"Then we're all frakking dead." The Colonel expressed flatly.

_"_Galactica_, Starbuck, moving into position, no contact yet."_

She rolled the nimble Mark VII into a curving approach, moving in shortening circles towards the reported triangulation point. The numbers continued to be fed into her computer via datalink, something Adama traditionally looked on with disapproval.

"Still no DRADIS." Her wingman reported. "Just _Perseus_' CAP keeping an eye on us."

"Hey, did you see the _Perseus_ CAG?" Starbuck asked with amusement. "Real hottie, if I swung that way I'd be kicking down that door."

"Rumor says she's easier to get into than a swing door." Jolly grinned back.

"Gonna be a long time out there, guess it gives you something to aim for huh?"

She suddenly caught a glint of light.

"Hold up, I think I have something. _Galactica_, Starbuck, possible contact."

She altered course, tiny puffs of gas nudging the fighter onto a new course.

"I see it too, drifting dead ahead." Jolly confirmed. "Can't make it out."

"Hang back and cover me." Starbuck ordered. "I'll take a closer look."

She inverted her fighter, matching course with the object, moving in ever closer.

"Okay _Galactica_ I see it now, looks like a fighter, smaller than a Viper, pretty bulky. Not something I've seen before."

She pulled alongside; close enough to see the pilot inside. She grinned over and gave him a wave.

"Contact made, I can see the pilot, and he's in one of our flight suits."

_"Very well, standby."_ Adama's voice ordered.

"Just who the frak are you?" She waved again. "Cocky son of a bitch and it takes one to know one."

"So it's one of ours?" Tigh frowned as Adama picked up his phone.

"Dee, broadcast on the same frequency you are receiving from the target."

"All ready sir."

"This is _Galactica_ Actual to Colonial stealth fighter; respond or I'll have my Vipers force you to land."

"A Stealthstar?" Tigh grimaced. "I thought they were discredited after, you know."

"Guess it takes more than one dead man and two sunk careers to kill a multibillion cubit project." Adama answered with clear bitterness.

"Galactica_, this is Widowmaker. Nice job sir, request permission to land."_

"Nice job?" Tigh shook his head. "What sort of a game is he playing?"

"Widowmaker, Colonial or not you violated regulations by closing into our airspace unannounced. Land immediately and report for debrief."

_"Sir, my orders were clear, approach _Galactica_ under stealth so my existence would remain unknown to the fleet at large." The new pilot stated. "These orders were from Admiral Nagala in person. He said you would understand given the history of this craft."_

Adama and Tigh shared a look.

"Widowmaker, land in the portside hangar, platform four."

"_Understood, request the area is sealed and cleared of non essential personnel."_

"Very well." Adama agreed. "Colonel, inform Captain Kelly to clear non essential personnel, I want just the Chief and his two best people to receive this bird."

"Alright." Tigh nodded. "A Stealthstar?"

"Might be handy." Adama shrugged. "Widowmaker, begin approach." He flicked to a different frequency. "Starbuck, escort the guest to the starboard pod. Colonel, get a fresh CAP in the sky, we'll be wanting Starbuck down there."

"Yes sir."

"Then come and join me, we've got some questions to ask."

The two fighters made their approach, touching down expertly on the number four deck elevator and retracting into the sealed hangar deck, taxiing to a halt in the middle of the cleared bay. The Stealth craft followed the same basic layout of a Viper with a long nose, cockpit and engines, but was stubbier with a faceted shape and smaller forward swept wings. It had four very powerful shrouded engines at the rear and lacked the upright rudder of its fighter cousins, sacrificing agility for speed and low observability.

"Nice, very nice." Chief Tyrol nodded in appreciation.

"I've never even heard of a new type of fighter." Cally joined him, watching the fighter come to a halt. "Is it coming with us?"

"Good question." Adama announced, striding across the floor with Tigh close behind. "She's a Stealthstar, top secret spy plane. Whatever you see here remains classified, are we clear?"

"Yes sir." Tyrol and Cally answered in unison.

"Secure the bird Chief." Adama accepted. "Nice and easy, we don't want to dent it."

"Never thought I'd see one of these again." Tigh mumbled beside his Commander. "They must have ironed out the bugs, thing could have landed before we knew it was there."

"Pity they couldn't have done that for Bulldog."

The canopy hissed open allowing the pilot to exit, clambering down from the fighter and handing his helmet to Cally. He wasn't a young man, his face was hard with plenty of lines and short cropped white hair. He possessed two pale and intense blue eyes surrounded by lines, the result of a life time of squinting at distant targets. He had the walk of a fighter pilot, a powerful stride delivered by muscles used to tensing against G-forces. As an old Viper rider himself Adama knew a Top Gun when he saw one.

"Colonel Solomon Ferro." He saluted. "Night Flight Composite Squadron sir, currently known as the Black Widows."

Adama answered the salute. "What's your business here Colonel?"

"I've been assigned by Admiral Nagala to join your mission." He handed over a folded piece of paper. "I have a flight of four Stealthstar Mark Two recon fighters under my command sir. The Admiral thought we might come in useful."

"Mark Two?" Tigh asked as Adama read the orders.

"Yes sir, the original prototype had a few issues, poor engine masking, an assumption that communications were secure, narrow band transponders. We believe a combination of these failings is what led to the failure of the prototype, and its mission sir."

Adama looked up. "And the life of a good man."

"Yes sir, I knew Bulldog from an earlier posting. His loss was a blow to us all."

"Not a bad ride." Starbuck walked around the plane, taking in its lines. "No guns, shrouded thrusters, rear visibility is lacking. I'd take it apart in a fight."

"There wouldn't be a fight Lieutenant, just a sudden flash as I put a missile into your ass while you're talking about girls to your wingman."

Far from taking offence Starbuck broke a smile. "I noticed you had a camera aperture on the underside of the nose, and emission sensors like a Raptor in the rear. I'm guessing a full ELINT package is wedged in there, advanced internal sensors and looking at the engine layout a jump drive. Am I right?"

"Very good Lieutenant." Ferro nodded. "The Stealthstar is a recon fighter; the Mark Two has its own FTL capability along with provision for deployable sensor drones. Or missiles."

"Making her a strike fighter." Adama folded up the orders. "Nagala must have pulled a lot of strings to get four of these birds released. Your squadron must cost as much as half a Battlestar."

"They aren't cheap sir, which is why we've assigned only the best pilots, handpicked."

"Guess my invitation was lost in the post then?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow.

"No offence Lieutenant Thrace, I've seen your record and your performance is exceptional." Ferro answered. "But you are a combat pilot, and while you're an excellent Viper pilot there's a big difference between Vipers and these birds. My people are all fully qualified test pilots with at least fifteen years of service each. While I don't deny Lieutenant Thrace has talent, my people have talent and experience handling anything a fighter can throw at you. They are adaptive, methodical, ice cold and utterly professional. Best pilots in the fleet."

"I see from your badges you passed through Viper Weapons School." Adama noted. "Not an easy school to pass through."

"Actually sir I was senior instructor for ten years before transferring to the test pilot program." Ferro replied. "I was only eight when the Cylon War ended so I never got a chance to see active duty, but my mother was one of the top scoring aces of the war."

"Theresa Ferro?" Adama sifted his memory. "Flying from _Columbia_, we flew in the same mission at the end of the war. She was lucky to make it out of that ship."

"That's her sir." The pilot confirmed. "It's a lot to live up to."

"Sounds like you're doing a good job. Alright Colonel, bring your birds in and land on _Perseus_. You'll operate from there."

"Not _Galactica_ sir?"

"We're going to have a lot of civilians coming and going on this ship, _Perseus_ is more low key and easier to hide away on. I'll inform Commander Belzen of your arrival."

"Understood. In the future sir we're trained to operate with no emissions, no communications or transponders. When we go out there for real we'll be spectres."

"Hopefully we'll never have to use you." Adama returned. "But either way I'm glad to have you with the fleet. Chief, get the Colonel's bird ready to go."

"On it sir."

"Let's hope this thing works better than the prototype." Tigh growled. "Hard to guess what ass end job we'll get if we lose one of those billion cubit birds."

"Military liaison to Gaius Baltar." Adama half grinned. "Come on Saul, time to find that refinery ship."

**PXG-147  
Sector 728**

The central moments of an age occur on the margins of most people's lives. A celebrated play from the early years of the Caprican pre-science cultural renaissance known as the Age of Philosophers begins with shepherds quarreling over their entangled flocks when one of them noticed a flare of light in the east as something fell from the sky. There was a brief pause in the dispute as the men on the hill considered the event. They then returned to their argument.

The death of Heladikos, or Hermes Trismegistus, in a falling chariot, bearing fire from the sun, could not compete with the importance of the theft of a sheep. The drama by Sophenidos moved from this beginning to treat matters of faith, power and majesty, and contained the celebrated Messenger's speech about dolphins, Heladikos and the example of the Lords of Kobol. The play began on that hillside, and it ended there, with the sacrifice of the disputed sheep employing the new gift of fire.

Nonetheless, for all the human truth of Sophenidos' observation that the worlds' major events might not seem so important to those living through a given time, it remains equally true that there are moments and places that may properly seen as lying at the heart of an age.

That day, in the early spring of the year, there were two such places in the galaxy, far apart. One was in a certain star system lost in the galaxy's wash of stars and void, known only by its Colonial astronomical catalog designation of J23R7 in the Otarsis Sector where a Raptor crew made a startling discovery. The other was on the planet known only as PXG-147 to a group of humans from Earth.

Daniel Jackson looked up from an aerial photo at the ruins standing in the marshes, mostly door jambs and pillars with scattered bits of broken walls. As far as he could tell, the ruins seemed to be part of a large round complex structure that stood in the middle of a once-prosperous city. Steep forested mountains rose in the distance. Judging from what he could tell from aerial photos, the ruined city once stood at the confluence of two rivers, but over time, one of the rivers had shrunk into a wildly meandering creek while the other river had broken its banks and turned much of the valley into marshes and swamps. The photo also showed more ruins of the extensive city that once stood here, as well as roadworks that suggested that the city was built in concentric rings despite the converging two rivers.

This planet was an archaeologist's dream.

This city reminded him strongly of the Ancient city of Vis Uban on P4T-3G6. There was also some resemblance to the Ancient city on P4X-639, where they found that Ancient time-loop machine. This would suggest a relationship between this city and the Ancients even though the evidence showed that the city's existence ended about 2,000 years ago. How was this possible?

"Sir!"

Daniel started at the shout. One of the SG team members came running through the tall grass, waving at him with a yellow folder. As he came closer, Daniel recognized him with a slight groan.

"Jay Felger," he muttered under his breath.

While Dr. Felger was a brilliant scientist, he made rash decisions based on sketchy evidence. Always late, he was clumsy in laboratories, necessitating the careful assistance of Drs. Chloe Angstrom and Simon Coombs. And, like many in the SGC, he had a hero-worship thing for SG-1.

"Sir! You gotta see this!"

Daniel waited for the panting scientist to arrive. Soon, an almost overpowering smell of aftershave assaulted his senses. It wouldn't kill him to ease up on the aftershave, Daniel thought. He took a small pleasure when Felger slapped at a bug on his neck. It would seem that this planet's insects shared a fondness for perfumes and colognes with the insects of Earth.

Felger took several deep breaths to recover from the run across the ruins before speaking. "Sir, we've sent UAV's scouting around. There are more cities all over this continent. Estimates put them all at about 2,000 years of age. We think the same is true for the other continents."

"So it's a global civilization," concluded Daniel. That raised a new question: What happened to the people? Even if there was a global catastrophe, there should be some survivors somewhere. Even the worst case scenario for Earth always had some survivors eking out an existence even if it was a miserable one. This planet was now teeming with plant life and small animal life, so there should be a few people left even after two thousand years of little genetic diversity.

"Looks like it. But there's more." Felger took out a photo from the folder and held it up for Daniel to see.

"Looks like a road leading out from here," commented Daniel. The archaeologist looked up and around the valley, trying to match the landscape with that shown in the aerial photo. He pointed. "There. Eleven o'clock. The road seems to go straight to that formation of twin rocks up there."

"Yes, Dr. Jackson. But I think you'd be more interested in what's behind those mountains." With a huge anticipatory grin, Felger took another aerial photo out from the folder. "The road leads to another city. Looks intact, doesn't it?"

Daniel's eyes widened as he studied the photo. Trees and plants had grown over the centuries but it was clear that underneath the overgrowth, there was a city in the bowl-like valley behind the twin mountains. When flora overtakes the structures of a city, they tend to follow the city's lines and contours. Here, they were quite obvious.

"Is this close by?"

"Yes, sir."

Energized, Daniel took off at a brisk walk.

"Guess we're going there now," muttered Felger.

The sun of PXG-147 was low in the sky when Daniel Jackson and the man crested the ridge between the twin mountains to the north-northwest of the city ruins. Daniel was excited. The road from the city and up the mountainside had been much overgrown, but he could easily discern its path by the carved stones that he thought could be gravestones, judging by the several human bones he had stumbled upon. Just a while back, they had crossed a small meadow right on top of the ridge. In one of the mountainsides, he thought he could see what looked like the outlines of a tomb's doorway in the overgrowth.

Though his archaeological instincts urged him to investigate the possible tomb, Daniel rebelled in favor of the potentially intact city caught in an UAV's photograph.

Through the trees, they could see the valley below. Rising from the coniferous trees and overgrown with vegetation was a clearly intact structure that looked very familiar. The sight caused them to stop in their steps.

Felger said, "Say, is it my imagination or does that look a lot like..."

"...the central spire of Atlantis!" finished a very excited Daniel. Laughing and whooping, Daniel ran down the mountainside towards the tower in the valley.

**Stargate Command  
**

"God dammit," Daniel said to no one in particular.

He had been expecting the usual briefing group of General Landry and the other members of SG-1. Instead, the briefing room above the gate control room was crammed with both military personnel and members of the base's scientific staff. Bleary-eyed from just waking up, washing up and dressing only 30 minutes ago, Daniel wished he could sleep some more. He had come straight from PXG-147 only a few hours ago by stargate for this debriefing, and had slept far fewer hours after frenetically typing up his reports. Daniel looked around and recognized a few faces: the SG-1 team, Drs. Felger, Coombs and Angstrom, General Landry, and of course Jack O'Neill, who'd come out from Washington on a scheduled visit. Two others in the room caught his attention: the SGC's Director of Operations, Air Force Colonel Robert Henson, and the large and impressively tall Marine, Colonel Jeremiah Glyndon, the SGC's Director of Intelligence. Yes, Daniel's discovery had rattled the tree somewhat.

Daniel took his position beside a large flat screen and looked around the roomful of people again, smiling as if it was the first day of a semester. Faced with such an audience, he couldn't help sliding back into his professorial role. He noticed Teal'c discreetly bowing his head in regards to Daniel. That, more than anything, reassured him.

"Anytime you're ready," Landry said with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, right. Okay." Daniel pressed a button in a remote and the room's lights dimmed slightly while the flat screen activated to show an aerial photo of the forested floor of a round valley.

"What we're looking at is a picture of a valley on PXG-147. If you look carefully, you'll notice that the plant life seem to follow straight lines and curves. A city is under all that."

O'Neill delicately coughed to catch Daniel's attention, then nodded as if to tell his friend to get to the point. Daniel did tend to ramble once he was in his professorial role.

The only sign of Daniel being put off guard was to blink rapidly for a moment behind his glasses. "Ladies and gentlemen, what we are seeing is this:" He pressed the remote again and the monitor changed photos.

Gasps and surprised mutterings came from most of the audience, just as Daniel expected. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the central tower of an Ancient city-ship. In fact, if we look past the covering vegetation, it's an exact copy of Atlantis' central spire. The upper half, actually. The rest is underground. From our readings, the buried part is not only the same shape and size as Atlantis, it is identical."

That created a murmur among the people in the room. As everyone knew, only four Ancient city-ships had been encountered so far: Atlantis, two city-ships built by the Asurans, and one buried underground on a planet in the Pegasus galaxy from which a Lord Protector ruled a feudal society. General Landry said, "If it's just like Atlantis, where are the other spires?"

"They fell down, likely in an attack. The interesting thing is that the attack seemed to have occurred two thousand years ago, at the same time as the fall of the civilization of PXG-147. Another interesting thing about this city-ship is that it's named Olympus."

Daniel could see many of the people exchanging looks at this piece of information. "Olympus is connected to a ruined city, likely the civilization's capital, by a road over a mountain ridge, lined with gravestones. A tomb was discovered on a ledge at the midway point between the ship and the city. We haven't opened the tomb yet. All efforts are focused on the city-ship and the ruined city. This capital city has some characteristics of Vis Uban on P4T-3G6, so Vis Uban may have served as a template for it. As we know, the first planets settled by the Ancients in the Milky Way were Dakara and Earth. PXG-147 is possibly the third planet colonized. By the way, the city was called Taranta, or Theopolis, depending on which inscription you follow, and the planet was called Kobalos, which in Ancient means 'Source'."

"Source of what?" asked someone in the audience.

Daniel shrugged. "That's what I'm hoping to find out. We tried to use the ATA gene to activate Olympus' hologram-record room for information, but it seems to be programmed to require a different set of genes. But from what we could tell, the Ancients of Olympus co-existed with the humans of Kobalos until about 2,000 years ago."

Teal'c arched an eyebrow even as Samantha shot O'Neill with a surprised look. The most they knew of the Ancients was that their galactic civilization ceased to exist in a paroxysm of plague and Ascension, leaving only the Lanteans to continue, and the Lanteans came to Earth from the Pegasus galaxy about 10,000 years ago, fleeing a war with the Wraith. Did another group of Ancient survivors exist after all? And did they survive much longer than the Lanteans?

"The humans of PXG-147 had a pantheon of deities comparable with the Greco-Roman pantheon." Daniel shook his head, frowning in consternation. "Having a city-ship named Olympus planet-side is too much of a coincidence."

Even O'Neill had to agree. It brought up the uncomfortable idea that the planet's humans worshiped the Ancients despite the Ancients' famous aversion to being the object of worship. Of course, that did not stop people like the Athosians in the Pegasus galaxy from worshiping them as the Ancestors.

"From what we could figure out without accessing the city-ship's library database, the Ancients seemed to use a society research lab, just like the one at Atlantis, to monitor the planet's civilization. I have a feeling that if we excavated the central structure of the ruined capital city, we might find a station where the people heeded commands from the lab. The star drive is damaged and would not work at all. Until we access the database, whether it's sabotage or the result of an attack is anybody's guess. I'm leaning toward an attack. The arsenal's really low on drones and there are only several unpowered puddle-jumpers left. Two of the ZPMs are depleted and the third is approaching the red-line."

"Who attacked them?" wondered O'Neill aloud.

Daniel shrugged. "Until we could access Olympus' database, we don't know. From the evidence, it seems to be a combination of an ecological calamity and a war."

Samantha said, "Couldn't be the Wraith. They're all in Pegasus. Couldn't be the Goa'uld or they'd still be on the planet, harvesting the city-ship of its technology. There's no one else we know willing and powerful enough to take on the Ancients. So...who could it be?"

"Whoever it was, I'm not inviting 'em over for beer and pizza," quipped O'Neill.

Daniel could only agree. "We haven't found any Ancient mortal remains so I'm assuming that they Ascended. Considering the density of civilization on the planet, there had to be a very large human population, possibly comparable to Earth's. If so, there should be bodies everywhere if they all died out. But it was as if most of the population that survived whatever hit them just packed up and left...."

He looked around at the room and added, "We may ask ourselves who attacked them. We should also ask: Where did they go?"

**Stargate Command**

**Two Months Later**

The elevator opened quietly to reveal a single passenger who disembarked in silence and made her way down the still hallway. Due to the nature of its location and construction, elevators and stairs were the highways of travel at the SGC and rarely were they quiet, even at this early hour. But on this morning, the blonde female, wearing the blue trousers, light blue shirt and silver oak leaves of an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, had the hallway to herself as she made her way to her office. She was running late and was all too well aware of it, forcing her to move at a brisk clip while carrying her black attaché case in one hand and a steaming travel cup containing a Starbucks latte in the other. If there was one thing Samantha Carter hated, it was running late.

She made her way down the hall, finally passing another living being, this one a Marine captain clad in his MARPAT camouflage carrying a small pile of folders who nodded and muttered "Good morning Ma'am" under his breath. Carter returned his nod and reached for her government-issued Blackberry, checking one last time for any messages she might have missed. Like almost everyone else who had one, she'd become addicted to her Blackberry and probably would have defended it with her life.

Carter entered the foyer of the main office area and was greeted by the smiling face of the office's administrative specialist, an Air Force technical sergeant named Jill Spellings who managed to keep the paperwork side of Carter's world in some semblance of order.

"Good morning Colonel."

"Good morning. You're in awfully early."

"Had to get caught up on some projects from yesterday. I had to leave early for my PT test at Peterson."

"How'd you do?"

"Very well actually. Those workouts you recommended worked wonders Ma'am." Spellings cracked a distinct grin. "Maybe I'm ready to try out for an SG team."

"Ha. You can have my spot. I could use some quiet time. Anything going on?"

"You have Lieutenant Hailey waiting in your office. She was scheduled a few days ago."

"Shoot, I almost forgot. She hasn't been waiting long?"

"No, she just got here."

"Okay, thanks."

Carter made her way through the offices with their collection of cubicles and work areas and made her way to her private office, something earned by her status as dean of the SGC's military science staff. Add in the fact that she'd saved Earth a few times and that had guaranteed her a decent office. Not that she spent a lot of time in it; she was mostly in her labs or on missions. The office was just so they could say she had an office, and for meetings like this.

While Carter was on her way, the young Lieutenant Jennifer Hailey waited and took in her surroundings. Carter's office was immaculate; no papers or clutter could be found, which Hailey found surprising, especially for an academic officer like Carter. Academics could be notoriously cluttered, even the military-trained ones. On one wall was what members of the military jokingly called the 'I love me' wall. Anyone in the military with an office, no matter how humble, had an 'I love me' wall covered with awards, photos and other mementos and Colonel Carter was apparently no different. Hailey walked over and looked at the collection of awards citations, photos and plaques with barely hidden envy. This is the type of career she wanted, full of discoveries and moments of profound achievement. Carter had become her mentor and in reality, her goal. Among the photos was one of her, General O'Neill, Doctor Jackson and Teal'c standing with President Hayes during a visit to the SGC. Yeah, this is the career she wanted. With that she sat back down and resumed her wait.

Carter entered the doorway and the small blonde female dressed in the same uniform, though with the bars of a first lieutenant on her shoulder, popped to her feet with the stamina and enthusiasm of all young officers. In a way, Carter missed that.

"Good morning Ma'am."

"Lieutenant, I apologize for running late. I hit some traffic on the way in." Carter motioned for the officer to grab a seat.

"Not a problem Colonel."

"How was Boston? MIT all you thought it would be?"

"I loved it Colonel. The work was challenging and the faculty up there is on the ball, at least those I could talk about the program with. They're working on some great ideas and going in some directions we hadn't thought about."

Carter took a sip of her latte. "Good. That's why we've tried to get the better institutions involved and why we've sent people out to do some cooperative work. Ultimately, a few of us here and at other places like Atlantis or the Alpha Site aren't the ones who are going to exploit our finds; it'll be the research universities and the private companies who maximize the uses."

"That's what Doctor Strauss said up in Boston."

"Well, you should know I got a glowing e-mail about you from him. He wants you there in his department for your graduate studies. What do you think of that?"

Hailey's eyes lit up. "I'd love that, but I really want to stay with the program."

"Oh, have no fear about that. You have a place here. As a matter of fact, that's why you're here now."

A slight furrow creased Hailey's brow. "I don't know whether to be intrigued or worried Colonel."

"I think you'll like this. In speaking with Doctor Strauss, you won't need to be back at MIT until late August. I've talked about it with Colonel Henson and General Landry and we've got an idea."

"All ears Ma'am."

"Recently, there's been a 'major', and I'm not overstating it when I say 'major', discovery on a world designated as PXG-147. Basically, Doctor Jackson and his people discovered the address while researching new parts of the Ancient database that we uncovered and could cross-reference with Doctor McKay's research at Atlantis."

"Okay."

Carter turned around and spun the dial on the safe sitting behind her desk, the one marked as being authorized to contain classified material. Once open, she retrieved an item and shut the door.

"Well, we sent a MALP and later a team as well as some UAV assets to the world. This is some of what we discovered." Carter handed over a manila folder containing some photos and reports along with the usual security stamps emblazoned on it.

Hailey leaned back in her seat and began reviewing the photos and documents. What she didn't know was that Carter was watching her for a reaction. Since scouting her at the Air Force Academy, and in many people's opinions saving her career, Carter had been cultivating Hailey's development, both scientific and professional. She had big plans for the young officer. Since her academy days, Carter had pushed and prodded Hailey, all in an effort to grow her immense talent and to smooth out what had been a viciously prickly personality. The effort had been largely successful, with Hailey continuing to show the startling promise she always had and her personality flowering and smoothing out. It was something Carter took immense pride in.

It was more than that of course. Carter saw so much of herself in Hailey. Desperate for validation, with a chip on her shoulder, Hailey had the same burning thirst for knowledge and success that a young Captain Samantha Carter once had. Carter recognized that need to strive and the impatience that came with it. It was a powerful thing when harnessed correctly.

"My…God. How much are they looking at?"

"They don't know for sure. The ruins go on for miles and there could be similar settlements all over the planet. The UAV sweeps we have done have revealed a lot more in the way of ruins and evidence of some sort of society at one point flourishing there. There's definitely a city-ship down there and that's got everyone worked up. It's a monumental find; an entire civilization. Doctor Coombs says they're still groping around at the moment. Our efforts there a little hamstrung because we just don't have enough bodies to properly garrison the place."

"Are we planning a long-term presence?"

"Oh yes. We're not sure what we'll find but with the Ancients, there's invariably always some tech and other finds to be made. General Landry is about to approve the deployment of about fifty Security Forces troops to relieve the teams there and there are already some RED HORSE engineers there constructing a camp.."

Hailey looked back down at the documents and shook her head. "Have they found any tech-related finds so far?"

"Yes and no, because of the manpower issues exploration has been limited and we haven't been able to get a ship there yet to use its sensors and what they have found hasn't responded to the ATA gene."

"If I may ask, what does this have to do with me? Seems more like an archeological dig than straight science."

Carter reached over and took a sip of her drink. "Well, here's what we're thinking. As we go forward we're going to be working more and more with Ancient tech, or with systems and ideas gleaned from their knowledge. With that in mind, I want you to get as much of a feel for the Ancients and their thinking as you can. You're not the only one; I've got a few others who'll be doing the same thing over time. Plus, I like the idea of a fresh set of eyes looking at this stuff; you might see something we missed.

"So, I want you to deploy there for a few weeks, maybe a month and work with Doctor Coombs and his staff. Play sponge and soak up as much Ancient as you can. Daniel…er, Doctor Jackson will sit down with you over the next couple of days and give you the background on what we've learned about the Ancients and this planet. What do you think?"

"I like it Colonel, a lot."

"Good, plus I want you to be able to get some field time in. You haven't been off-world in awhile and skills get rusty. The commander of the site is Colonel Dave Dixon, know him?"

"No."

"Well, he's an experienced officer, CO of SG-13 and he'll take good care of you. Learn from him as well. He's been around the block as they say and he's a good source of knowledge. Plus, you'll get the hazardous duty pay and the tax-free benefit, so reap it while you can."

Hailey chuckled. "Who am I to refuse that?"

Carter smiled at her protégé and reached for more paperwork. "Good. While we're at it, I want you to take a look at these findings…"


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Officers' Club**

**Fort Myer, Virginia**

Like all weddings, the assembled guests watched and smiled as a very happy bride and groom made their way to the dance floor for their first dance. It was obvious to everyone that both were insanely happy and madly in love, judging from the enormous smiles and bride's happy tears. And like all weddings, the guests appreciated the little things, like the completely appropriate first song; so appropriate the guests let out an audible _'aaww' _like all good wedding guests, even the highly ranked ones with security clearances. The band played a classic Frank Sinatra staple:

"_Fly me to the Moon; let me swing upon the stars…"_

One table of guests found it particularly touching, even the one in the Air Force uniform with three stars who didn't necessarily do 'touching' very well. They'd seen enough suffering and it was well and good to see something great come out of it all. As if on cue, he broke the ice at the table with trademark wit.

"You know what I love about weddings?"

The tone of the question and the personality of the individual saying it at once put the man's friends on notice. They knew him well enough that a statement of unique humor and semi-useless insight was on the way. Especially in light of the fact that he was nursing a rather expensive brand of Scotch.

"Most of them involve the two greatest words in the English language: open bar."

A few years ago, Daniel Jackson might not have smiled or laughed at that sentiment, but now, after being through so much, he had to admit that his good friend had a point and he had his own glass to prove it. Open bars were a good thing; a _very_ good thing.

"Let me guess Jack, especially when it's someone else's wedding?"

"Well, there's something to be said for that. We're not picking up the tab" That comment drew a sideways smirk from the blonde woman seated next to him.

It was a pretty accomplished table of guests, being made up of Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, Daniel Jackson, Teal'c, Cameron Mitchell, Vala Mal Doran and General Landry. As they knew each other so well, the alcohol was flowing as were the one-liners. Years of stressful operations and risk taking meant that when they unwound, and that was rare, it was a pretty funny event. The SGC was a small, cloistered fraternity that required a large buy-in of time and effort, but the benefit was friends like this, who appreciated the struggles and shared both the good and bad times. And this was a good time.

The setting was Fort Myer, the old and stately Army post across the Potomac River from Washington, bordering Arlington National Cemetery and the Pentagon. The Officers' Club was tastefully decorated and the dignified and wood-paneled room was as beautiful for this happy occasion as any other wedding and filled with a crowd of beribboned military personnel and their dates.

The simple fact was that this was anything but a normal wedding by any stretch of the imagination, for a lot of reasons. Few weddings required the approval of the Secretary of Defense, a series of new policies, a full background investigation and briefing of the groom's family or had the President of the United States sending along a congratulatory note. Nor had a wedding involved so many background checks or been attended by so many security-cleared people. This wedding was a first, one that the attendees knew that in coming years would be repeated until it became as routine as any other blessed event. But this one was special; it was the first traditional wedding of a human of Earth to someone from another planet (Daniel Jackson's having been a traditional Abydonian ceremony and not on Earth) and that qualified it as historic, as much as the happy couple wanted to keep it low key.

They had succeeded to a certain extent. The guests were relaxed and the setting intimate, as only the groom had family here. The bride was cut off from what remained of hers, and truth be told, they would be so disgusted by the union they would have cut her off anyway. It was a sad fact that she accepted as part of her new life, one that now included a new husband and an entire world to learn about. As it was, she had been accepted immediately and warmly by her new in-laws, a close knit and loving family, even after they found out the truth of her background and lineage. Most people would be overwhelmed, but apparently the bride had tougher stuff than anyone knew.

For years the SGC had highly discouraged romantic entanglements between its personnel and natives of other worlds and for good reason. It had been feared that military personnel, not knowing the local customs and responsibilities, might end up insulting the honor of some chieftain's daughter or causing a major diplomatic faux pas that could spell disaster. The SGC had gone so far as codifying the prohibition in its official policies for off-world personnel and for the most part, it had worked. But there were those rare cases, especially of people working closely together, which had happened regardless of policy. This was one of those and as always, the United States government had run up against romance and lost.

O'Neill and the rest of the table watched as the groom, one Major Evan Lorne, resplendent in his Air Force Mess Dress uniform, twirled his new wife, Mrs. Sora Lorne, formerly of the Genii, around the dance floor, her tastefully simple but elegant ivory dress flowing behind her. For someone who had never known Earth customs, it was apparent she'd taken lessons because she danced with an athletic grace and seemed to enjoy it. He'd talked to Elizabeth Weir the day before and been told how she'd spent days and weeks teaching the young woman about Earth customs, especially American ones and had introduced her to that unique American rite, that of bridal magazines. O'Neill had just rolled his eyes and laughed. Carter had thought it sweet, as much as Carter thought anything 'sweet'.

How this particular union had come about was the subject of an interesting story in its own right. After her surrender at the end of the Genii's assault on Atlantis, Sora had been held in lock-up for an extended period and subjected to hours of interrogation regarding the Genii and their operations. Weeks and then months passed as the SGC tried to figure out just what to do with their prisoner. As time went on and Sora saw more of the Atlantis Expedition and their motives, she had come to realize how wrong she and her superiors had been regarding the travelers from afar. Before long she began cooperating with the SGC, telling all she knew as she knew she'd already been written off and had to make a life for herself.

One person who'd come to appreciate and understand the young woman was Elizabeth Weir, who had as much reason as anyone to distrust any member of the Genii. Weir, much to her credit, had looked past it and began spending time getting to know the young woman and what she was about. They talked of the Genii, of Earth, of the Wraith and of all the things people speak of when they're lonely and confused. Weir came to see potential in the young woman and took her case to the IOA, arguing that the woman was no threat and should become a valued member of the expedition. As usual, the IOA resisted at first but then came to give up in the face of Weir's dogged campaign of persuasion. When the IOA relented, Weir came up with a plan.

She called in Lorne, asking him to take Sora to Earth, mainly to show the young woman all that there was to know about life on Earth, the cities, culture and ways of humanity. It fit with the IOA's goal of showing that the Earth was more than a concrete military bunker in Colorado filled with polite soldiers. Lorne had been dubious at first, not really wanting anything to do with the Genii but had taken to his duty. The trip had been a huge success, with Sora stunned at the size and diversity of Earth's people and their relative isolation from the horrors beyond their world and Lorne was taken with the inquisitive and attractive young woman. That led to the usual chain of events; the awkward conversations and batted eyes, the tentative first date and so on (including being discovered making out on a balcony by Ronan Dex) until they reached their current state, one of blissful happiness.

Vala looked around and made an off-hand comment. "I will say, Earth customs, once you get used to them, aren't bad at all."

"At least here; go to the Middle East and you may not like all the customs. In some parts they still arrange marriages." Daniel said.

"That's one custom I wouldn't go for. But this is nice." Vala looked over at Sora wistfully.

General Landry watched and chuckled. "What is it with woman and weddings? You ladies see a woman in a dress and turn into mush. Even those from another world."

Carter rose to Vala's defense. "Well sir, women have this image in their heads and it is their big day after all."

O'Neill just smiled and shook his head. "Oh, we know that!"

"Where they going for the honeymoon?"

"Someone said the Bahamas I think."

"Damn, not bad."

The reception flowed along and the drinks kept coming. Finally, O'Neill saw Lorne make his way to the bar and looked over at Landry and both nodded. With that, they rose from the table.

Jack looked down at Carter and winked. "If you'll excuse us, we have some business to conduct."

Carter knew what they were up to. "Good luck."

The two Air Force generals proceeded to make their way through the crowd of attendees, along the way saying hello to familiar faces and old friends, whether they were SGC types, Atlantis residents or members of the military. As they marched along, O'Neill caught the eye of Lt. Col. John Sheppard, who was engrossed in a conversation with Elizabeth Weir, and nodded. Sheppard looked to Weir, smiled and excused himself to follow the generals to the bar. They arrived at the bar to find Major Lorne pouring his own drink from a very expensive bottle. Each general took a side and brushed up against the unsuspecting Air Force major. Lorne looked up and couldn't prevent his eyes from turning into headlights.

"General O'Neill, General Landry! Sirs, good to see you. Thank you so much for coming." Two general officers attending the wedding of a major was unusual but in the compact world of the SGC, not so much.

Neither general officer said as much as a word as they stood stiffly with rigid looks against the perplexed and suddenly very nervous major and as Landry simply cleared his throat. Lorne looked positively confused.

"Sirs, a drink?"

"We thought we'd come over and give you your wedding gift Major." With that Jack removed a small blue box covered in felt from his pocket and slid it across the bar to Lorne.

"What is that?"

"Why don't you open it and find out Major." Landry said.

Lorne took the small box in hand and opened it. His eyes went even wider and his breath became shallow as he eyeballed the contents. Pinned to the soft padding inside were the silver oak leaves of a Lieutenant Colonel.

"My God…"

O'Neill smiled. "The list comes out in four months and your name is on it. Congratulations." He extended his hand.

Lorne took it and couldn't wipe the hilariously goofy smile from his face. "I didn't know; I thought I had a while to go."

Landry piped up. "It's a Below-the-Zone promotion that we both recommended and, shockingly, we both happen to have some friends left." A Below-the-Zone promotion meant that Lorne was being promoted ahead of nearly all of the officers in his peer group, before his normal eligibility and meant the Air Force had big plans for him.

Lorne looked over at Sheppard with a grin. "You knew, didn't you?"

Sheppard smiled and shrugged. "Let's just say that I wasn't completely ignorant. Congratulations. You deserve it." The old friends shook hands and hugged.

"Now," Jack's smile turned to a predatory grin. "Let's talk some business."

With that, the four officers each grabbed a drink and retreated to a quiet corner of the bar where they could converse in a normal tone.

"You've done one heck of a job out there Major. It hasn't gone unnoticed, as those oak leaves attest to." Jack pointed to Sheppard, "And this crazy helo driver keeps singing your praises, as does Elizabeth Weir."

"Nice to be appreciated sir."

"Now it's time to come home." Landry added.

"What sir?" Lorne looked floored by Landry's pronouncement. "I thought you were keeping me out there for a while?"

"If you're interested, I have a job for you." Jack said.

"What do you need me for sir?"

"You think your blushing bride," Jack jerked a finger towards Sora, who was smiling and talking with Weir and Lorne's mother. "…would like the suburbs of northern Virginia?"

"We knew this would happen eventually sir. I think she'd like it. Pentagon?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, somewhat. I'm putting a team together; you'd head it. I've got Paul Davis and his people as my admin and political eyes and ears. They keep me apprised both formally and informally on, you know, stuff. And they deal with the fires before they get out of hand."

Lorne smirked. "I know Colonel Davis sir. He's one of the best at knowing the Pentagon beat."

"Yeah, that's why he'll stay there for now. The committees on the Hill like him too. As for you, I want you and a small group to be my go-to people for anything big on the operational side. Your team will be DOD, State and some from the intelligence community, CIA, DIA. You know; the usual players, plus some of our allies, at least the more reliable ones. Too many teams are getting wrapped up with stuff they don't need to be on, even SG-1. You'll work a lot with General Landry's people in Colorado and with the IOA. The idea is that you'll be my fireman and fixers. What do you think?"

Sheppard looked at his good friend. "You take this knucklehead. You know Sora loves it here and this is big."

Lorne didn't hesitate. "I'm in. When do we start?"

"Soon enough." Landry said. "We'll have to arrange to PCS you back here…" Landry stopped as Sora approached the group, a smile lighting her way.

"I'm sorry to interrupt gentlemen. I just wanted to come over and say hello to you and especially my husband. We haven't had five good minutes together." Sora looked radiant in her ivory wedding gown and Landry said as much. The beautiful young woman blushed. "Thank you. I see my new husband has that look on his face, so I know something is up."

Lorne placed a small kiss on his wife's cheek and looked over at O'Neill. "Sir?"

"Go ahead, tell her." Jack stated.

Sora's mouth went a little crooked at the mystery. "Uh oh…"

Lorne smiled. "Oh, I think you'll like this Mrs. Lorne. The generals just offered me a job, here on Earth. Right next door as a matter of fact."

"We're moving here? To Earth?" Sora's smile turned to an enormous grin.

"Yes ma'am. Right here to Virginia. Three hours from my family."

Sora raised a hand to her mouth. "That's great! I thought it would be a while…it's unexpected."

Landry laughed and raised his glass in a mock toast. "Welcome to the life of an Air Force spouse Mrs. Lorne."

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

"_Galactica_, Racetrack, clearing local airspace and preparing for jump."

_"Roger that Racetrack, _Galactica_ acknowledges."_ Dee's voice floated down the airwaves. _"Safe journey."_

"So say we all." Racetrack murmured in time honored fashion. "Okay Skulls, lets spin up the engines and take another ride."

Her ECO got to work, the athletic officer setting the parameters for the jump and crunching the numbers Racetrack provided. He was still relatively new to the job, transferred to the _Galactica_ after getting into a string of brawls on his old ship. He still had a bit of a temper, a reserve of aggression that might have been better served in the Marines, but Hamish 'Skulls' McCall was undeniably an effective backseater, as good as Crashdown and second only to Helo in the task force.

For her part Margaret 'Racetrack' Edmondson was glad to have a competent ECO in the back. Having crossed trained on the job herself she was well aware of the subtlety and control required to sift the wealth of data flowing into the Raptor and decide what was relevant and what wasn't. Skulls was both the main sensor officer and expected to coordinate and oversee fighter battles, acting as an early warning and control point for _Galactica_'s famous VF-1'Primus' Squadron. Each of the fighter squadrons had a Raptor assigned from the pool, often more than one, to provide an overview and warnings during engagements when the fighters would be too focused on staying alive to watch the big picture. There was a lot of competition between Primus Squadron and _Galactica_'s other top unit, 'Vigilante' Squadron, serviced by Boomer and Helo's Raptor. While Helo was considered the best of the ECO's, Racetrack knew for a fact she could fly rings around Lieutenant Valerii.

"Coordinates laid in, ready to go." Skulls reported, his face illuminated slightly blue by his helmet lights. As per regulations they were both fully suited up despite the Raptor maintaining internal pressure. Just in case.

"I'll move us to minimum safe distance." Racetrack announced, burning the engines to push the tan colored crate clear of the fleet. The two biggest ships were flying side by side in the heart of the fleet, the _Galactica_ herself and the even larger Marinestar _Heroic_. The _Heroic_ was based on a modified _Galactica_ design; she used the same basic hull but with much enlarged flight pods. They looked similar to the _Galactica_'s from above, the covered runway and aviation hangar beneath, but then they extended downwards into a pair of blocky extensions attached to the pods nearly tripling their volume. These squared off additions contained the vehicles and supplies of the expeditionary force carried within the _Heroic_, from their multi-wheeled light armored vehicles to their food and makeshift buildings.

The flight pods themselves were also slightly redesigned from _Galactica_, rearranged to support a larger number of Raptors and assault ships instead of the fighter-heavy air wings of a regular Battlestar. The _Heroic_ carried four squadrons of Vipers piloted by Marine Corps pilots, along with a hundred Raptor gunships, two dozen heavy lift shuttles, and most impressive of all, two massively well armed multi-role assault craft.

The assault craft were about a hundred meters long and docked on the runway being too large to be taken inside the sealed hangers, a similar size to a commercial space lines such as those operated by Intersun. It was designed as a flying command post with a full C4I suite, space in the belly to carry a platoon of vehicles or company of infantry, and a bewildering away of guns and turrets fixed along the flanks to provide cover from air attacks or fire directly on enemy ground forces.

The basic design had proven massively effective in the first Cylon War, a handful of assault craft hovering over a battlefield and utterly decimating Centurion wave attacks with their formidable weaponry.

Staying close to the two very well armed heavy ships were the civilian vessels, the various surveying and refinery ships eager for a taste or tylium. Mixed in with them was the _Celestra_ under the nominal authority of Gaius Baltar, which rather amused the professional officers in the fleet. Considering the fanfare the scientific part of the mission seemed almost insignificant, one fairly tiny ship sandwiched between grimy mining vessels and intimidating warships.

Further out were the escort ships, the four escort destroyers positioned at the edges of the fleet with the two cruisers deployed above and below the plane of travel. Last but certainly not least was _Perseus_, trailing a few dozen miles behind the Task Force in position to jump on anything that tried to ambush the main force.

It was a decent enough force, with nearly two hundred and fifty fighters beside the warships it wasn't something to take lightly. Out here though, dozens of jumps from home, it was a tiny isolated sliver of humanity completely overwhelmed by the gulf of emptiness pressing around them.

The Raptor computer indicated it was well clear of any ships, the potential lethal distortion wave generated by a jump in no danger of hitting anything they could be billed for.

"Alright, here we go." Racetrack pushed forward the initiators. "Jumping now."

With a flash the ship vanished, instantaneously reappearing dozens of light years away on the edge of a particularly dense asteroid field. A quick post jump checked showed all systems were in the green and local space was clear.

"Jump complete." Skulls reported. "And with a hundred percent less vomit now we don't have Cally in the back."

They both winced at the memory; Specialist Cally Henderson was infamous for her inability to keep her lunch down during the disorientation of a jump. Running her from post to post was generally considered a punishment.

"Here we are." She peered out of the huge forward window, craning her neck to view the seemingly endless cloud of rocks. "I hate asteroid fields; my uncle bought it in an asteroid field in the war, chasing some damn Cylon Raider through the Damacles belt. Rock the size of your hand went through his canopy and took his head clean off."

"Gods." Skulls pulled his lips back in a grimace. "Must have been quick."

"Yeah, at least." Racetrack affirmed. "Crappy way to go though."

"I'm not picking up any fast moving debris here, this all looks pretty stable." He reported, carefully reading his DRADIS screens. "As long as we fly steady we should be fine."

"Not going to be a problem." Racetrack opened the throttle slightly. "Nice and steady, fly the friendly skies."

"Beginning first scan pattern." The ECO informed, tapping out the orders. "See if there's anything worth sending a ship for."

They settled down for a long run, relaxing in their seats but keeping their eyes on their jobs. Normally they might have tried a few hands of cards, but the asteroids made Racetrack a little more wary than usual given her history.

"So your uncle flew Vipers huh?" Skulls enquired. "What about your folks?"

"They were kids on Tauron during the war, spent most of the time running away and scraping food from the ground."

"It was pretty rough on Tauron I hear. So that's your homeworld?"

"Yeah."

"Thought you had that look, dark hair, dark eyes, bad attitude."

She scoffed at the remark. "I do not have a bad attitude!"

Skulls laughed broadly. "If Starbuck wasn't onboard you'd be notorious!"

"Okay, so maybe I speak my mind…" She tailed off. "Is that a crime?"

"Not in my book."

She exhaled. "You know I'm the youngest of ten kids?"

"Ten?" Skulls grinned widely. "Ten kids? Were you born into some sort of musical comedy?"

"After the war people were encouraged to have big families on Tauron to build up the population. My parents really went for it."

"Must have been loud."

"If you didn't stand up for yourself you didn't get anywhere, I learned that early."

"Good lessons."

"Maybe not when you're four years old." Racetrack smiled a little. "It was crowded, first thing I did at sixteen was go travelling, just the clothes on my back and what I could carry in a rucksack. I wanted to see the worlds, the bits most people don't check out."

"Find anything interesting?"

"Yeah, a lot."

"How long did you travel for?"

"About ten years."

"Really?"

"Really. It was liberating just to spend time with myself. I learned a lot about the worlds, good and bad, and it convinced me to join up."

"How so?"

"When I visited the poor parts of the Colonies, the bits the media don't dwell on and governments ignore, it made me want to help. I wanted to make things better but there was only so much I could do by myself. The police are too corrupt in those places, the government doesn't care, but the Fleet, well the Fleet tries to help out. Both the Army and the Fleet promise to educate those people if they join up for a few years, they're pretty much the only organization that tries to better those places. Take people out and send them back confident, educated, worth something you know?"

"Yeah I get it, hell I was almost there myself. If I hadn't joined up I'd probably be in jail, maybe worse."

"That's what I'm talking about." Racetrack nodded. "I'm going to get my promotions, do my time, then transfer to that department and really start helping these people. That is why I'm here."

"Saint Racetrack." Skulls chuckled. "Got a ring to it."

"Mock all you want, but I'm serious about this." She defended sharply. "I want to make the Colonies a better place, and anyone who gets in my way had better watch out."

"Well I know I wouldn't dare."

"Smart man."

"I wonder what Helo thinks to your noble quest?"

"Why would that matter?"

Skulls smiled widely. "I don't know, maybe something to do with you constantly trying to get him assigned to your Raptor. Not that I'm bitter about you wanting me gone…"

"It's not like that, you kick ass Skulls." Racetrack assured.

"So…"

"So… well, I mean…" She huffed heavily. "So it's none of your business!"

He laughed back. "Hey, I think you'd make a great couple."

"What! Hey!" Racetrack snapped, pausing slightly afterwards. "Really?"

Before he could answer Skulls caught a signal on his screen.

"Hello, what have we here?"

"Contact?" Racetrack reluctantly moved onto the new subject.

"Spectral returns suggest tylium ore deposits, asteroid almost dead ahead. Lots of it, lots and lots of it."

"Great news." She beamed. "Think there's a finder's fee? Civilian surveyors get a commission for this sort of thing."

"If we get even a thousandth of a percent we're going to be made for life, this things got more tylium than half of…"

"Half of what?"

"I got something else, something else on the asteroid."

"Like what?"

"Like structures."

"Impossible, there's no one else this far out."

"It's reading right."

"Then you're not reading it right!"

She dipped the Raptor around a cluster of rocks, rising up so the Tylium heavy asteroid was directly ahead of them. It was far in the distance, a tiny speck, but even so far away she could see the glint of refined metal buildings on the surface.

"Oh frak."

"Definitely buildings, a major operation." Skulls confirmed. "Also reading electronic emissions, recommend we stay close to these rocks to hide from DRADIS."

"Got it." Racetrack came to a halt, moving as close as she dared to one of the larger nearby rocks.

"There's no one out here, this is way beyond safe return distance to the colonies without a full expedition." Skulls shook his head. "Wait, I've got some movement too. Small craft, a couple of dozen."

"Small craft, shuttles?"

"Fighters."

Racetrack felt her pulse quicken.

"Cylons, it's got to be Cylons."

"The style of the emissions matches, same sort of frequencies and bands used in the war. Matches the historical records perfectly."

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods." She exhaled rapidly. "Okay, let's get the frak out of here before they see us!"

"Plotting jump."

"Cylons, frakking Cylons!" She spat. "Gods damn it we might be flying right through the middle of their space!

"The Armistice Line is supposed to be in the other direction!"

"Well I guess they didn't get the memo!"

"Jump ready!"

"Initiating!"

The Raptor swung about and vanished, returning far ahead of schedule.

"_Galactica_, Racetrack, request immediate landing clearance!"

"_Racetrack_ Galactica, _land immediately port side pad one._" Dee responded with impressive speed. _"Are you declaring an emergency?"_

"Negative G_alactica_, but it's very important I speak to the Commander effective immediate."

"Message passed on, continue landing."

"How the hell are we going to break this one?" Skulls asked.

"Just tell him straight up, the Old Man will know what to do."

They barely had time to hand their helmets to the deck crew and jump down from the Raptor before Colonel Tigh marched across the Hangar deck to pick up the two officers.

"What happened? You weren't due back for five hours?"

"Sir, I think it's best to explain the situation to the Commander directly." Racetrack responded.

"You'll tell me Lieutenant, right now."

"With all due respect sir, the Commander needs to hear this. Privately."

Tigh narrowed his eyes a little before nodding, catching something in Racetrack's voice. Fear.

"Alright, come with me, the Old Man's in his office."

He led them swiftly through the ship, every knuckle dragger and pilot watching them hurrying tight lipped off the hangar and into the belly of the _Galactica_. The rumors started almost instantly, wondering what they had found. Kobol? Earth? Alien life? The edges of Baltar's ego?

They said nothing as they arrived in Adama's office, Tigh following them in and closing the door behind them.

"Lieutenant Edmondson, Lieutenant McCall." The Commander held them with his intense gaze, a stare that could reduce buildings to rubble. "What happened?"

"Sir, a few minutes into the mission we detected a substantial quantity of tylium." Racetrack began. "At least equal to any current mines back home."

"And you couldn't wait to tell us?" Tigh frowned. "Not like you to get so giddy Racetrack."

"No sir, there's more. When we moved closer to confirm the readings we discovered we weren't the first ones to find it. The source of the readings already had a mine and refinery built on it, already extracting tylium."

Adama's jaw tightened, he already knew what was coming.

"Could you ascertain who owned the mine?"

"Based on readings Lieutenant McCall took of transmissions and DRADIS signatures, we determined the base had been built by the Cylons sir."

"Son of a bitch!" Tigh exclaimed. "Son of a frakking bitch! Cylons?"

"Based on evidence yes sir."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Did they detect you Lieutenant?" Adama asked more calmly.

"No sir, we saw no signs they knew we were there. They had fighters patrolling the area and none of them vectored in our direction."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"We got some good pictures of the base sir." Skulls informed. "And some images of the suspected fighters."

"Very well, have Major Spencer take the recordings and pictures and develop them in secret. Do not inform anyone what you have seen, don't get drunk and let it spill. This is classified ultra-compartmentalized. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Last thing we need is to start a panic. Good work, both of you, now go hit the showers and act like everything is fine."

"Yes sir."

Tigh opened the door for them, the still flight-suited officers leaving with an exhalation of relief. The Colonel waited until the door was closed before continuing.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Yeah, I heard the first time."

"Cylons? Out here?"

"Sure sounds like." Adama sat down, pointing at the seat opposite him.

"Well that's going to piss on someone's breakfast." The bald officer sat down. "If they've got one base out here they might have more."

"Almost certainly." Adama agreed. "And if our learned scientists are right there's a big fat planet out there just waiting to be settled. This is going to get interesting."

"We should turn back right now." Tigh suggested. "I strongly suggest running home before the Cylons figure out where we are and come and get us."

"They might already know."

"All the more reason to head back."

"The Admiralty was worried about this, about the Cylons expanding in a different direction to the Armistice Line, surrounding us."

"Cutting us off from future resources." Tigh nodded. "Like this big pile of tylium."

"Well I guess that means they still need it too." Adama observed. "If there's a mine there must be a way to ship it back to wherever they live. Transports maybe."

"You're thinking of tracking one?"

"Just watching them, try to get an idea of how intense this operation is, how much tylium they need from it."

"How big their fleet is based on fuel consumption?" Tigh nodded. "They could have thousands of mines for all we know."

"Tylium's pretty rare, especially so much of it in one place." Adama considered. "We need to know more. The Admiralty is still desperate for information on the Cylons, this is our perfect chance."

"We can't go jumping in there Bill."

"We can't, but we have the means to do so."

Tigh pursed his lips in disagreement. "The Stealthstars? We've been on this mission before."

"And now we get a chance to do it properly."

"And get more people killed?"

"They worked out the bugs, these new fighters can do the job."

"And if they can't? What if we bring the full might of the Cylons down on our heads?"

"Guess that's incentive to not screw it up."

"Bill, this isn't what we're here for."

"No, it's even more important than some half assed treasure hunt." Adama replied firmly.

"Our part in that mission ended two years ago."

"It never ended." Adama replied with a touch of anger. "We lost a good man to gain intelligence on the Cylons, so we're going to gain that intelligence."

His old friend nodded slowly in understanding.

"What happened wasn't your fault. The mission was flawed from the start."

"As commander I have direct responsibility for what happened."

"Responsibility and fault are two separate things. If you had done something wrong they'd have court-martialed you. Me too."

"The fact stands that we have a chance to gain important intelligence on the Cylons, the first sighting in thirty nine years. It's much easier for us to do it here and now than it is to go back and have Nagala send a separate recon mission. We have the ships, the people and the training."

"And when we're done, then what? Keep going?"

"If we're undetected, yes." Adama confirmed. "We go on to Kobol, and send a ship back home to report on the Cylon base."

"I'm wary of this Bill; it's a lot like playing with fire."

"I know, but we can't let this slip through our fingers. Have the commanders of the _Heroic_ and _Perseus_ report aboard for a conference. Colonel Ferro and Major Spencer too."

"I'd suggest we get Racetrack and Skulls back too."

"Alright, see to it Colonel."

"Yes sir."

"We won't make the same mistake twice Saul; if it's too risky we'll walk away. I'm not going to send our people on a one way mission again, and I'm not taking one damn thing for granted."

"Let's hope you're not the only one Bill."

**Fort Hood, Texas**

The gray Ford Expedition moved at a fast clip along the dusty and windy dirt road, leaving a trail of dust in its wake like a horse-drawn carriage of old. There were plenty of dirt roads like this one on this quiet and remote part of the sprawling central Texas installation and one SUV wouldn't attract too much notice. Fort Hood was massive and it was quite easy to disappear if one wished to. The two occupants were remarkably quiet, considering how much time they spent together working, but the circumstances were unique and that had led to uncomfortable silence.

Colonel John Sullivan, the driver of the SUV, hated drama, at least the kind produced by human minds that were too undisciplined or too crafty for their own good. The last thing he really needed in his life, enormously complicated on an average day, was cheap theatrics that got in the way of getting things done. And he was all about 'getting things done'. His career and professional reputation was built on it, as was his quickly receding and graying hairline.

"I'm a little surprised with Hoff; he's not usually one for this cloak and dagger stuff."

"Yes sir. I'm not really liking where this is heading. Show up at this remote location? Tell no one? Sounds like a set-up to me." Command Sergeant Major George Cunningham rolled his eyes in a frustrated way and screwed himself deeper into the passenger seat like a student en-route to the principal's office.

Both men did not like wasting time for a very good reason: they had no time to waste. Sullivan's full-time job was a busy one, as commander of the 1st Brigade Combat Team of the 1st Cavalry Division, a collection of highly trained manpower and highly technological killing machines that had one purpose: engage and destroy the enemies of the United States. There were no hand-wringing or sleepless nights among Sullivan and his troops; they knew what they were supposed to do and spent an enormous amount of time and energy training to do it. Cunningham, the 1st BCT's sergeant major, had his own responsibilities, mainly making Sullivan's life a little easier and striking fear in the troopers of the brigade, and being summoned to a remote area was not among them.

The call had come the night before from the 1st Cavalry's commanding general, Major General Sidney "Sid" Hoff. _Show up at a remote warehouse. Don't let your chain of command know where you'll be._ It was all very cloak and dagger as Sullivan had lamented and neither liked it very much but accepted that the boss had spoken. Sullivan was old-school cavalry at heart, having started as a young lieutenant commanding an armored platoon in the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment, the famed 'Blackhorse', in Germany during the height of the Cold War. Nothing was more enjoyable than watching his M-1A2 Abrams tanks charging across open country.

Soon enough the vehicle pulled up to its location, a quiet and little-used warehouse next to a rail spur. Sullivan knew the building; it had been used in the past as a mobility warehouse and storage site. He immediately knew something was different as two members of Ft. Hood's military police battalion stood outside the main door.

"I don't like this at all."

Cunningham was deathly silent but let out a barely audible grunt.

The two men exited the truck and made their way towards the door, taking note of the four non-descript SUV's parked nearby. Both MP's came to attention and snapped off a sharp salute that Sullivan quickly returned.

"Good morning sir."

"Good morning gentlemen, we're here for a meeting."

"Yes sir; I'll need to see your ID."

Sergeant Major Cunningham blinked in surprise and was about tear into the MP when the MP added a caveat with a nervous look on his face.

"I'm sorry sir but I was instructed to directly by General Hoff."

Sullivan simply and silently arched an eyebrow at the revelation but wasn't going to cause the poor MP any unnecessary heartburn for simply following orders. Some issues just weren't worth the heartburn. Sullivan and Cunningham reached into their wallets and produced their ID cards for the nervous MP's inspection. With that done they made their way to the metal door of the warehouse, the simultaneous feelings of suspense and annoyance rising exponentially. Sullivan pushed the door open and was greeted by a surprising sight: a large sheet covering an apparent Abrams tank and surrounding it a small group of Army officers, civilians and most surprisingly, a couple of Air Force officers. His curiosity now turning to bewilderment, Sullivan heard a familiar voice and its nasal whine, belonging to his boss, Major General Hoff.

Hoff, to Sullivan's trained eyes, never really looked like a cavalryman, or an army officer for that matter. Bookish and more like a nice suburban accountant, Hoff had the asset of an easygoing disposition that put everyone in the room at ease but hid a fearsome intelligence and smart tactical mindset. As the 1st Cavalry's commander he had more firepower at his disposal than ninety percent of the world's countries but looked more at home at his daughter's soccer practice. Only fools underestimated him.

"Morning John. Sorry for bringing you out so early but you'll find it was worth it. Come over and meet our guests."

Hoff steered the two new arrivals across the concrete floor, glaring harshly in the fluorescent light bars suspended overhead. It was relatively cool in the warehouse, verging on chilly in fact as the air conditioning whirred quietly. Half the people wore suits, and Sullivan respectfully shook hands with both the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of the Army. They exchanged a few basic pleasantries, Sullivan's quick mind more interested in trying to decide what reason had brought him in company with such illustrious figures.

It almost certainly had to do with the tank under the sheet, and as he was escorted to a second gaggle of chatting individuals he gave it closer scrutiny. The basic shape and proportions matched the standard M1 Abrams, a vehicle he knew intimately, but as he looked more carefully he noted the gun barrel was longer. He turned to mention it to Cunningham only for the Sergeant Major to pre-empt him.

"Yes sir I saw it too, I'd guess the gun is maybe a meter longer. Same proportions as a Leopard A6."

The German armed forces, the Bundeswehr, had recently upgraded its Leopard tanks to a newer, longer 120mm cannon, the extra length giving the weapon a higher muzzle velocity and hence more punch. As the Abrams used an almost identical gun to the original Leopard II there had been a lot of rumors in the armor community that the US would upgrade its own tanks with the same new gun. It was certainly something Sullivan would approve of, and did help answer several questions.

General Hoff led them to the final cluster of guests, two were scruffy civilians, but the third perked his interest, an Air force lieutenant general.

"I'd like to introduce Doctors Felger and Coombs," Hoff began. "who are largely responsible for what you are about to see, and General Jack O'Neill who's part in this I'll explain a little later."

"Good to meet you Colonel." O'Neill shook hands. "The General was telling me about your little moment of glory during Desert Storm."

"Closest thing to an old style cavalry charge I've seen." Hoff grinned. "Sullivan took his company over the border at full speed, formed up line abreast tearing ass into southern Iraq. We ran into a battalion of T-72's just inside coming to reinforce the local strongpoint and Sullivan caught them in the open. He didn't even slow down, he just opened fire at full throttle, wiped out those Iraqi tanks and kept going. Best example of fire and maneuver I've ever seen."

"Just doing my job sir, Rolling Thunder."

"He also tells me you're the accepted expert in small unit tactics for armor," O'Neill continued. "That there's no one else in the army that can beat your ideas on platoon strength maneuver tactics and doctrine?"

"I've had plenty of time to experiment," Colonel Sullivan allowed. "I learned my trade in the Cold War, training to fight Soviet armored divisions in a straight up battle on the German plains. These days though most of our actions take place in small units, two, four, maybe six vehicles operating in infantry support. Our job these days is hitting bunkers and bulking up aggressive recons."

"He's been modest; half the field manual is down to his ideas." General Hoff recited proudly. "Sullivan literally wrote the book on armor operations in low intensity conflicts."

"Then I think we have the right person," O'Neill nodded. "Come on then, let's un-wrap Uncle Sam's latest toy of the year."

Hoff gestured over the pair of MP's, one each grabbing a corner of the sheet over the tank. With a grand and slightly over the top flourish they peeled the cover away in a billow of fabric, the gently undulating material in stark contrast to the hard and sharp lines beneath.

To the casual observer it wasn't really any different to the Abrams tanks seen on the nightly news; it had the same dull yellow camouflage, the same angled turret and slopped armor. But to the trained eyes of the tankers she was a different girl wearing her sisters' clothes.

"No fume extractor." Cunningham noticed, the almost ubiquitous bulge seen on all modern tank guns missing on this one.

"That's because there's no fumes." One of the scientists, Felger as Sullivan recalled, offered. "It doesn't fire conventional chemical propelled rounds. It's a rail gun."

Both tankers whistled in almost perfect unison.

"I heard the Navy was working on one of these, but I had no idea you could fit one on a tank." Cunningham nodded approval. "How powerful is it?"

"It'll accelerate a round up to mach twenty." Felger added with a gigantic smile.

"Impossible, that sort of recoil would rip the turret off."

"We use a modified version of the 302 series inertial compensator in the gun cradle to soak up the energy imparted by the round." The other scientist, Coombes relayed dryly. "You could increase velocity a hundred times over and still not feel a thing, but the limit here is atmospheric friction and how ablation affects accuracy over a given threshold."

"Right." Cunningham frowned. "What?"

"All that matters is boom," O'Neill offered helpfully. "Big boom, pretty boom, many, many booms!"

"I don't mean to sound like a kill joy here sir," Sullivan raised. "But why do we need a gun this powerful? Our standard armament is effective against any known or projected enemy vehicle, this weapon just seems like vastly expensive overkill when at most a twenty to fifty percent increase in power would have been more than enough to keep us competitive for the next couple of decades."

General Hoff cleared his throat. "Why don't you take this one Jack?"

"Sure." O'Neill accepted. "This tank as you guessed is classified but within your clearance. What you are about to hear is classified so high up the food chain Mulder and Scully couldn't find it. If you've got any concerns, this is your last chance to leave."

"With respect sir, I didn't think we were brought all this way for a fashion show."

"Good," O'Neill smiled briefly. "Bottom line, aliens are real, a lot of them don't like us, and so we kill them with big guns."

Cunningham chuckled, but immediately stopped when he saw Sullivan's expression. His commanding officer wasn't laughing but studying the flat and even expression on the Air Force lieutenant general and the almost casual revelation of alien life. Suddenly Cunningham realized it wasn't a joke. Flag officers didn't make jokes like that. It was insane; something out of one those damn sci-fi shows his kids loved to watch. But studying the Colonel and his casual acceptance of what he'd just been told, he knew this was for real.

"Have we been attacked sir?"

"Several times," O'Neill confirmed grimly; the cheer and good nature evaporating instantly. "Our first and for a long time only line of defense was a tri-service group known as Stargate Command, which is where I am assigned. Through a combination of incredible skill and blind luck we've stopped each effort and struck back using nothing but small infantry teams drawn from each service. I led team SG-1 using an alien artifact we call a stargate to travel to alien worlds."

"How sir?"

"Well it's a matter of quantum physics relating to wormhole travel, specifically an Einstein…" Coombes began before O'Neill cut him off.

"You switch it on and walk through, and step out instantly on an alien world as long as it has a similar gate."

"And some of these aliens want to kill us?"

"Kill, enslave, that sort of thing." O'Neill answered. "There's a whole briefing, but for now all you need to know is we stole some cool stuff from them and made some awesome, awesome gizmos. This is yours."

"Sounds like something out of _Wormhole Extreme_," SGM Cunningham said as he shook his head in bewilderment.

The Air Force lieutenant general chuckled mirthfully, as if privy to some private joke. "Let's take a look at your tank and over lunch I'll tell you that particular story, my treat?"

The SGM and Colonel exchanged a look. They were a team and had worked together for years. Both men could read each others thought with a glance and by now their earlier misgivings were almost completely forgotten. There was just something about General O'Neill that just inspired confidence and trust in his subordinates and those around him. A sense of charisma and personal authority the two veteran soldiers recognized at once as the mark of a great leader, but just as importantly, the mark of a great man.

"Sounds like a plan sir," Colonel Sullivan nodded in acceptance.

"So…a super tank?" SGM Cunningham nodded at the M1. "This is ours, so what did you get?"

"Space fighters and full sized space battle cruisers," O'Neill shrugged. "Okay, I admit, it's not exactly an even split of resources."

"Given the Navy will be taking over those ships…" The Secretary of Defense reminded. "As soon as Congress approves the Naval Appropriations bill."

"The only reason I'm not complaining is because the Navy promised to name one of the new 304's _Enterprise_." O'Neill informed.

"The Air Force is still getting its new deep space strategic bomber," The Secretary said to placate the General. "And I should say the Army will be getting a gunship to supplement and eventually replace your Apache helicopters which will completely revolutionize the battlefield."

"An anti gravity propelled fully shielded attack air speeder," Felger grinned. "The T-47…."

"We're not calling it the T-47; George Lucas would sue us into prison," Coombes shot his colleague down.

"Well we're not calling it the Delta Flyer either, because that's even more dumb!" Felger spat back.

"Children…" O'Neill cut in.

Felger exhaled. "We also have the as yet unnamed multi-role transport for the Army using the best of our technology, but that's expected to be years away and the Army wanted something now. So we bolted a bigger gun to an Abrams and swapped out its engines, armor and sensors. Job done."

"What did you swap out the engine with?" Colonel Sullivan's interest perked again.

"Well as you can guess there's no way a turbine can generate the energy for firing the railgun at a useful velocity," Felger explained. "So we used a little alien tech, a Naquadah reactor. It's like a miniature nuclear reactor, but much safer. Unless you shoot it or something, but that's pretty rare in our estimation."

"We took the opportunity to put in electric engines powered directly by the reactor." Coombes picked up. "Almost completely silent, and with our advances in super conductors extremely efficient. The only limit to your speed is how much of a pounding the suspension can take."

"About fifty miles an hour." Cunningham informed, mainly for the benefit of the Air Force. "It's less a suspension problem, more an issue with the tracks. Last thing you want is to throw one of them in the middle of a running fight."

"Because of the engine type we've been able to cover over most of the vents and armor at the rear of the tank, which is a big thing I understand," Felger added. "The front is still your strongest angle, but now you can afford to worry less about getting shot in the back."

"Certainly a plus if we're going into urban environments." Sullivan appreciated. "How strong is that rear armor?"

"That's the thing, the whole tank uses a trinium alloy composite."

"What's trinium?"

"Sci-fi material," O'Neill prevented a lengthy analysis by Coombes. "Lighter than steel, much harder when refined. I mean much harder."

"Based on tests, the rear armor will survive the most powerful anti tank weapons we have." Hoff explained. "120mm guns, AT missiles, even Hellfires and Mavericks. You've got three or four times the protection at the rear as the frontal armor on an M1A2, and as for the glacis on this beast, you could probably drop it from orbit and not dent the nose."

"I'm going to take a guess this isn't over-engineering at its finest?" Sullivan prompted.

"For an _Earth_ best threat, it's complete overkill against current threats," General Hoff agreed. "But this tank is designed primarily to engage alien vehicles of unknown but advanced design."

"Basically we built it on the assumption that whatever we run into will be big and scary, so we need the maximum capabilities we currently can muster engineered on this chassis," Coombes noted.

"Therefore the mission for this vehicle is pretty open-ended," O'Neill picked up. "We haven't met anyone with tanks like ours or even armored warfare doctrine as we practice it, but the idea of using armored fighting vehicles to support armies isn't exactly a huge leap of logic. This tank has three basic roles, to kill any hostile equivalent of itself, to support SG teams in larger scale operations, and, this is my favorite part, to act as a mobile anti spaceship platform."

"Which is why you need such a hugely powerful gun."

"Exactly," O'Neill confirmed. "This tank is designed to engage Al'Kesh, basically a corvette the size of a naval frigate. They are well built and well protected, harder to bring down than Coombes from a chair if there's a spider on the floor."

"Dammit General! We weren't going to talk about that!"

"Sorry," O'Neill winked. "Point is the turret is mounted on a magnetic ring, you can spin that thing in half a second, and your gun elevates almost vertical thanks to the space saved inside."

"Space from what?"

"An auto loader for one, plus the deletion of fuel tanks and rearranging ammo storage now you don't need cartridges, just the round itself. We've improved your ammo capacity by a factor of four."

"You've also got the latest subspace scanner and communication systems for real time target acquisition and data-net sharing over extremely long ranges and ship to surface support." Felger added. "And while most of your ammo is pretty standard, tungsten rounds, High Explosive, canister, you will have a few Trinium sabot rounds for ship hunting."

"Our preliminary thought is to take advantage of the variable yield on the gun," General Hoff spoke up. "Dial the power down to ten, fifteen percent for most targets, even less for firing canister or MPAT rounds, and only use a full powered shot for taking down extremely hard targets. Armor Center is looking at those ratios now."

"Like low flying space warships?" Cunningham enquired.

"Exactly Sergeant Major."

Colonel Sullivan allowed a minor expression of incredulity to slip through his exterior, the sheer magnitude of the changing reality eroding its way through his stoic defenses.

"I have to admit General; taking out low flying space ships wasn't exactly on my job list when I started. Guess it shows how far the world has changed."

"And more every day," O'Neill agreed. "After we get the gunship finished we're talking about giving you guys a _real_ tank."

"This isn't a real tank General?" Cunningham gestured at the metal beast beside them.

"It's a modification of a current design, we're looking at making something from the ground up to fit our requirements."

"As I'm sure you gentleman can attest this tank does the job, but it basically only just meets specifications for taking on ships." Felger shrugged. "But we've been playing around with a true heavy tank, one that can dish out massive damage but is also big and solid enough to take return fire. Of course…it's all theoretical at this point."

"Yeah, I mean right now you can't really afford to take hits from alien ship weapons, but the new design will." Combes enthused. "Super heavy armor, energy shields, multiple power cores, missile batteries, machine guns, twin rail cannons…"

"…Sharp sticks, bad language…" O'Neill chipped in. "Still working on it, but as a mainly anti ship vehicle we're looking at naval grade railguns. Eight inch."

"That's going to be a huge tank sir, more a moving firebase."

"It's still a concept at the moment, but yeah, less of a battle tank and more of a mobile support platform. Covered in guns. And missiles. And whoop ass."

"Are we the only ones with these sir?" Colonel Sullivan asked.

"The Stargate Program is an international effort, beside our usual allies we're also working with Russia and China on developing technology and weapon systems." O'Neill stated. "The Reds are making their own tanks to a similar standard, and this baby is the product of a joint NATO program. The gun is German, the armor British, the engine Japanese and the electronic systems are ours."

"Japan isn't in NATO sir." Coombes reminded.

"Coombes?"

"Sir?"

"Shut up, Coombes."

"Yes sir."

"Each country is making its own designs, but to almost identical capabilities. Everyone will be pulling their weight here." General Hoff said. "However we're currently ahead of our partners with this prototype, so it's up to us to put it through its paces. Which brings me to you Colonel, and you Sergeant Major."

"You want us to put it through its paces sir?"

"More than that. I want you to test it, and then create a company strength unit of handpicked crew to operate our first operational unit. You will be deploying off world and you will probably be placed into harm's way."

"No one in my team is a stranger to that General." Sullivan assured.

"At this time Stargate Command is beginning to move away from small team operations of squad and platoon size elements and looking to begin deploying battalion strength task forces off world. Part of that is going to be armored support starting at platoon strength, but eventually growing as we learn the tricks of off world operations, and when this goes public we can look at outfitting all the Heavy Brigade Combat Teams, us, First Armored, Second Cavalry, the works." General Hoff explained. "And frankly I can think of no other officer better suited to solving those problems and writing the rule book on small scale off world armored deployments."

"Understood sir, as far as challenges go this one is pretty unexpected." Colonel Sullivan nodded in stoic acceptance.

O'Neill grinned.

"Everyone in this room knows how you feel. It's a lot of information to take in on the same day."

"That it is sir," The Colonel agreed.

"The Army had to fight like hell for this; most of the R&D funds are going to the Air force and Navy to develop a pure deep space defense force, to even get _consideration_ for this project we had to sell this tank as a mobile anti ship weapon to support ground forces," Hoff exhaled. "But we've got it, and I want only the best commanders and crew running these things."

"Right now it's still a prototype." Felger added quickly. "This particular tank still mounts the same general sensors and secondary weapons as the M1A2, fifty caliber machine guns or 7.62 NATO standard minimums. But in the production models we can include better computers and smaller caliber rail guns; the Air Force already uses a 20mm version for point defense. If these tests prove to be the success we hope they will, then production will begin in three months, possibly two."

"We can iron the details out later; the important thing is to figure out if it works first." General Hoff centered the discussion. "Are you in Colonel?"

"Without a doubt," Colonel Sullivan didn't hesitate. "One question sir?"

"Go ahead."

"Do we have a name for this tank?"

"At the moment just the designation M1A4 Abrams. If you guys can come up with something better we're all ears."

"Turbo tank," Felger offered. "Or Juggernaut, that's good, or AT-TV, or…"

"We'll leave it to you Colonel." Hoff concluded. "There's no rush to put her through her paces tomorrow. I've already sent word back giving the entire division a three day weekend; a little celebration for our new toy, even if the men are a little mystified as to why," General Hoff smirked. "Assemble your team today, enjoy the three day weekend, then take her out Monday morning, see what she can do, sound like a plan to you Colonel?"

As far as Sullivan was concerned, _that_ was an excellent plan.


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Battlestar **_**Perseus**_

Sitting behind the fleet maintaining overwatch, the deadly form of the _Perseus_ was largely unremarked. Its presence was reassuring but beside a few glances early in the mission became like a shadow, a dark shape trailing the main bulk of the fleet silently observing and constantly preparing to swoop in if danger presented itself.

For the most part though the civilian elements of the fleet didn't notice her. She kept to herself and maintained her distance meaning nobody gave her a second thought as she made a few course changes and went through her launch sequence.

"Perseus _Flight Control to Widowmaker, you are number one on the runway."_

"Roger that control, canopy is sealed, all systems green. Ready to taxi."

Colonel Solomon Ferro finished his pre-flight checks, the stealth fighter answering ready for his command. Given the vast quantities of money spent on it he expected perfection, but as a former test pilot was by now used to the promises of sophisticated technology frequently going unfulfilled. The craft had been extensively tested but this would be its first operational deployment and one of the most important missions in recent history.

The airlock emptied around him, the space doors opening and allowing the Stealthstar to rise up on its elevator, emerging into the covered expanse of the _Perseus_ flight pod, the long runway open at front and back revealing the myriad of unexplored stars. The Stealthstar was a little too delicate to launch from Viper tubes, its composite hull and delicate electronics probably not suited for the violence of being catapulted into space. Instead they would take off under their own power like a Raptor.

"Widowmaker in position."

On this particular mission Ferro wouldn't be alone. As he waited on the elevator for clearance a second Stealthstar emerged from the armored embrace of the hangar bay, the dull grey angled fighter identical to his own.

_"This is Flatline, in position and standing by."_

Major Stellio 'Flatline' Kosta was Ferro's second in command and the most experienced member of his flight after the Colonel himself. Like all his pilots he had flown for the Colonial Defense Test Program and as an advanced flight instructor. He had been the test pilot on the original Stealthstar and had the mixed blessing of having survived more crashes than any other Colonial pilot, eleven in all. Whether it was bad luck to crash so often or good luck to live through them all was open to interpretation.

_ "_Perseus_ Control to Night Flight, you are clear to taxi to launch position."_

The fighters glided forward, their magnetized landing skids levitating them over the metal deck towards the brightly painted launch grid pointing towards the open front of the pod. The Battlestar had turned away from the rest of the fleet so the two birds would be launching into open space away from any prying eyes. Their existence remained a secret to the fleet at large and Adama wanted to keep it that way.

_"Night Flight, Airspace is clear, launch when ready."_

"Roger that _Perseus_, on our way." Ferro replied. "Okay Flatline, throttle up and let's get moving."

_"Right with you lead."_ Kosta returned.

Ferro pushed forward the throttles, the fighter gliding forward without friction, picking up speed as it hurtled towards open space. Even after decades of experience it was still a thrill to leave the cover of the bay, to witness the deck vanish and be replaced by the infinite depth of space. It was a feeling like no other, leaving behind the comfort and safety of a capital ship and embarking on a solo journey into the unknown. Test pilots almost always operated alone, no wingmen or support staff, just their own instincts and feelings. This mission would be the same, a lonely vigil far from home.

His comrade fell into position beside him, utterly silent with no trace on Dradis. Ferro activated his scrambled communications, opening a secure line to the fleet commander to report he was ready.

"Widowmaker to _Galactica_ Actual, Night Flight is ready to deploy."

_"Night Flight, _Galactica_."_ The unmistakable rasp of Commander Adama returned an answer. _"You have your orders, if at any time you believe you are compromised, abort immediately and return to the fleet."_

"Understood." Ferro confirmed.

_"We will be jumping to the next coordinates in two hours. If you are not back by then we will consider your mission compromised and declare this sector quarantined."_ Adama stated flatly. _"Your computers have been purged of any useful navigational data, if you are late for any reason you will not be able to follow us. So don't take your time Colonel."_

"Understood Commander, we'll be back before you know it."

_"Don't take your finger off the switch Widowmaker. We'll see you soon. _Galactica_ Actual out."  
_  
Ferro took the message to heart. Both fighters were fitted with Dead Man's Switches on the control column. If at any point Ferro or Kosta let go of them and didn't grab hold again within ten seconds it would trigger a self destruct mechanism denying the aircraft to the Cylons. It would also have rather unfortunate consequences for the pilot, but it was probably better than becoming a Cylon prisoner. Everyone knew what the Cylons did to those captured during the last war and it was not a pretty picture.

"Jump coordinates locked in." Ferro reported.

_"Same here."_ Kosta echoed. _"FTL spun up and ready to go."_

"Jump when ready." Ferro ordered. "Commencing radio silence."

_"Good luck lead."_ Kosta offered from the neighboring plane. _"Flatline going dark."_

"Widowmaker going dark."

Both planes turned off their active systems, from radios and active sensors to engines and even cockpit lights. The two stealth craft turned into moving dark holes in space, trusting to their advanced designs to absorb or deflect Dradis scans and praying the Cylons hadn't invented an entirely new breed of sensor.

Ferro checked his jump status, found everything in the green, and without any hesitation turned the jump key and blinked into a completely different location. He emerged exactly where he had predicted, obscured by one of the larger asteroids using its ion field to mask his jump signature, an old trick from the first war. Kosta was nowhere to be seen; hopefully meaning his own jump had been successful. The two fighters had timed their jumps to emerge on opposite sides of the base so if one of them was discovered there was still a very good chance the second one could escape and make a report.

He would have to take it on faith, there was no way he could scan for Kosta or try to talk to him and neither plane was flying with its transponders active. Until they returned to the fleet neither pilot would know if their colleague was alive or dead, unless there was a distant explosion or a sudden swarm of Cylon fighters.

The asteroid field was not particularly dense, sparse enough so that he didn't have to make any course corrections and could drift safely past the Cylon base at a respectable distance. He was confident the low powered navigational thrusters would be discrete enough not to stand out from the background, but he was far happier not to have to test the theory. He brought the cameras online and began recording the communication bands, downloading any messages emanating from the base for analysis and decoding later. Every detail was vital, even the tiniest snippet of information could yield a revelation.

The base itself seemed regulation, typical of Cylon designs from the war. It had some standard missile batteries, a fairly potent EW system and facilities to house a lot of fighters. He took particular notice of a patrol of new model Raiders, much smaller than the old war models which had been primarily attack craft. These seemed much more optimized for dogfighting, an important shift in doctrine.

He didn't hurry, his attitude entirely relaxed. He was a patient man, someone with inexhaustible calmness and composure. This sort of task required those qualities, not the fieriness of a hot shot fighter pilot but something more mature, more refined and forged through decades of experience. Where a fighter pilot was always part of a team, always working with and relying on their comrades, recon pilots were alone in their world with no one but themselves to rely on. It forced them into a unique type of confidence, quiet but utterly unshakeable.

It was therefore an indication of extreme surprise when Ferro deigned to raise an eyebrow, a response virtually unheard of in the ruthlessly controlled expressions of the senior pilot. His cockpit dimmed noticeably as something passed between him and the local star, something very big. He looked up to see a field of gray replacing the stars, etched metal obscuring his view for several long seconds as a vessel passed overhead within a few hundred meters. He froze completely solid, not even breathing as the vessel passed overhead, swarms of fighters flanking it in tight formation.

He wanted to run, he had the jump coordinated for home locked in and ready to go with just one flick of the switch, but something made him wait, some corner of his mind informing him this was a vital development. He let the vessel pass, cameras clicking silently the entire time, recording every inch of its hull.

His instinct was right; when the ship cleared it revealed even more vessels, an entire fleet of seven massive vessels, two primary triad hulls linked by a conjoining column at the heart of the ship. It was an entirely new design but the over and under hull arrangement was trademark Cylon.

His choice paid off, he held position for a few more seconds, filing up his camera memory banks, then made the jump for home still apparently undetected.

"Holy gods." Tigh slapped the photos down on the desk. "Well we're pretty frakked now aren't we?"

Adama made no immediate response, taking another few moments to carefully examine the reconnaissance images before laying them on his desk and regarding the Pilot standing at ease before him.

"In your estimation Colonel Ferro, is this a reasonable force to defend a location like this?"

"Negative sir." Ferro responded. "While the base has a sizeable tylium stockpile it also has provision for its own defense including heavy fighter protection and missile batteries. The addition of warships would be redundant, especially given its distance from presumed Cylon space."

"Which leaves us two possibilities." Adama considered. "First, that amount of military power is inconsequential to the Cylons and can be wasted on out of the way missions."

"Pretty unlikely, those vessels are huge." Tigh growled. "Plus they're teeming with fighters."

"Then we have the second option, they have nothing to do with the base and are out here on another assignment." Adama continued darkly. "An assignment that requires overwhelming firepower deployed far beyond their usual range of operations."

"Us." Ferro acknowledge. "That fleet is here for us."

"That will be all Colonel." Adama nodded. "This information might just save our asses from walking into an ambush. I'll be recommending your flight and our Raptor team for a commendation when we get home."

"If we get home." Tigh cut in.

"Thank you sir." Ferro stood to, and then left the room sealing the door behind him.

"Do you need me to tell you how frakked we are Bill?" Tigh set off. "Does it need a diagram drawing? Slideshow presentation?"

"I think I get the picture Saul."

"You don't send a party like that unless you're ready to use it. They've got our number Bill, they're hunting us."

"Maybe, or maybe they're just being cautious."

"Cautious like ambushing Bulldog?" Tigh raised an eyebrow. "They've got form Bill, they'll let us jump to an ambush spot, somewhere that favors them, then they'll hit us and nobody will ever know."

"We've got two jumps left, just two and then we can complete the mission and go home anyway. Why are they waiting? They've got to know our course, they must be able to predict where we're heading."

"Not many terrestrial worlds out here. If the Cylons have an established presence you'd think they know."

"Maybe they don't." Adama mused. "Maybe that's why they're shadowing us, they're waiting for us to lead them there."

"Then what?"

"That's the question." He exhaled. "I need to speak to the other officers. Call a conference, the commanding officer of each of our warships."

"What about the civvies?"

"Not yet, just the military commanders."

"They're not going to like it."

"Gives us all something in common." Adama grunted. "Get on the horn Tigh, we need to make a decision. Go on, or go home."

**Basestar 03**  
**Star System J23R7  
Otarsis Sector**

A Number Six model was exercising in the nude. She held herself steadily, breathed purposely, and still holding steady, moved her arms and slowly pirouetted. Coming down to the flat of her feet, she pushed an invisible wall away from herself with a frown of concentration.

This Number Six's hair was not as platinum blonde as many of the other Sixes. But she took the same pride in her appearance as all the others of her line. She had heard it said among the other model lines that the Sixes would be sure to go into battle with manicured fingernails and expertly worn makeup.

Privately, she would admit to that truth. Only privately.

Her concentration trembled at the thought and she had to push it away. She must maintain the oneness of her mind and body.

Unfortunately, a voice intruded and shattered that oneness:

"Natalie."

She sighed, released the oneness, and dropped her arms as she turned to the voice. It was one of the Number Twos standing in the entrance. Briefly, his eyes flicked down at her body. He did not leer. In the beginning of their existence, the model lines experimented with each other and knew each other intimately. Other models and centurions could be seen walking through the corridor beyond the entryway. There was no need for privacy on a Baseship.

Natalie looked directly into the Two's eyes and thereby recognized this particular member of the Number Two model line. "Korben. Aren't you supposed to be back in Cyrannus?"

Korben shrugged. "This expedition is too interesting. A criminal is bound to notice the firepower collected for this fleet. I mean, eight Basestars, one of them a Siegestar, and a Resurrection Ship, with all the accompanying Raiders?" He crossed arms and leaned against the entry's side as he added, "Besides, someone's bound to recognize me. I'm supposed to be dead. I think bits of my bones are still in that pool on Scorpia." A slight shudder went through him as he remembered his death.

Natalie bent to pick up a red silk robe from an ornate gilt-framed padded chair. As she shrugged it on and tied the red silk sash which served to accentuate her appreciable figure, she wondered about the Siegestar that she and Korben were on. Fresh off the line, the Siegestar sported more weapons than the standard Basestar and the arms on each of its two sections were arranged like an asterisk. In addition to flak cannons, havoc and MIRV missile launchers, twelve nuclear launchers holding three MIRV nukes each and the so-called Super-MIRV. Something of a misnomer, the Super-MIRV was really nothing more than a super-sized missile truck holding two dozen high-yield payloads. Some models jokingly called it the 'continent-killer'. So far, it has not been used in combat and Natalie doubted it would ever be.

Only six Siegestars had been built.

Pushing her long hair out from under the robe's collar, Natalie turned to the Two. "So, Korben, what do you want?"

"Well—" Korben shifted on his feet. "I want your opinion on something. Come with me."

Natalie projected a forest full of dappled sunlight to navigate the Basestar's corridors with Korben. Down another corridor, she saw a Number One come around a corner. Dressed in various shades of black, he arched a bushy eyebrow at her as he took in the red silk robe that she wore.

"Cavil," she said by way of greeting.

Cavil said to Korben, "The women of our race are perfect specimens, don't you think?"

The other Cylons wondered if Cavil intended sarcasm. Before they could figure it out, the older Cylon genially regarded the Six.

"You know how much I hate that name "Cavil"? Well, of course you do—_Natalie_. That was your name on Gemenon, wasn't it?"

She wondered why Cavil would think that her name would bother her. "Yes."

"Great job, by the way. Posing as a reform advocate. Natalie Faust, leading the charge against political corruption. And thanks to you, we know all about the Gemenese leaders and some of their mistresses and misters." Distaste came across Cavil's apparently aging face. "The sooner we get rid of the decadence in the so-called Holy Pantheon in Illumini, the better."

"I did what I was asked to—"

Cavil's bad mood appeared as if it was turned on by a switch. "You know what rankles my ass? Models trying to sway the votes, trying to take a leadership role in an egalitarian society that has no room for leaders. Manipulation in a society such as ours!"

Thrown off guard, Natalie took a breath to protest but Cavil went on:

"You're not on Gemenon, Six. You're not in charge. We're all in this. Your model line serves as overseers and troop leaders when you're not acting as infiltrators. That's the extent of leadership that our society tolerates. We Cylons would never have something like…" He waved a hand dismissively as he searched for the right term. "…like an Imperious Leader." Cavil raised an admonishing finger. "Just remember, we're all in this. Together." With that, he departed the other two Cylons down the corridor.

It was Korben's turn to arch one of his eyebrows. "What climbed into his rankled ass and died?" He chuckled quietly. "Don't worry about him. It's his nature. Why, his name says it all: Cavil. Quibble, complain, carp, niggle."

Natalie appreciated Korben's effort to deflect Number One's effects from her but she turned her face upward to feel the rays of the sun making their way through the treetops as she walked with Korben. She would have calm.

The massive asterisk-shaped Baseship had moved close to the tylium base on its asteroid. A slender umbilical had been stretched vicariously and loosely across the void from the asteroid to the Baseship. Even though it and the other Baseships and the lone Resurrection Ship in the fleet didn't need it, they were refueling a little as if the Cylon fleet was preparing itself for a long voyage.

When asked about it, Korben simply and theatrically said, "The tylium must flow."

Natalie rolled her eyes at that as they entered the Hybrid chamber. As usual, the Hybrid was quietly rambling.

"…_intake optimal FTL diagnosis seventy-five percent complete don't ask me how I'll be dead in the fires over the blue marble thank you thank you g__enesis turns to its source FTL system check diagnostic functions within parameters repeat the harlot the agony exquisite fifty-two percent of heat exchange cross-collateralized with hyper-dimensional matrix…"_

Korben said, "This is what I wanted to show you."

He stepped forward and sat on the platform around the tank built like a resurrection pod. He studied the rambling Hybrid lying in the tank filled with amniotic fluid which seemed to glow with a light hidden within. The pale expressionless woman was lying in her tank with a biometallic hood on her head, the amniotic fluid hiding most of the wires and cables that melded her body with the Baseship. Water droplets dotted her face where they fell from the ceiling above, conveying information about the Baseship and its surroundings in addition to the data fed by the semi-organic cables and wires.

Natalie watched Korben studying the Hybrid. She knew that the Number Two models believed that every word out of her mouth meant something and that God was speaking through her. The Two's believed that the Hybrids had looked into the space between life and death, and they had seen things that no one else could conceive. But they had been driven mad as a result.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he whispered, "To know the face of God is to know madness."

Natalie came up to Korben and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you here to try and figure out what the Hybrid has to say about the Colonial fleet we're following?"

He looked up. "To know the face of God is to know madness," he repeated. "The Hybrid sees the universe. She sees the patterns. She sees the foreshadowing that precedes every moment of every day. It's all there. I try to see. I think you should try to see, too."

"Korben," she said carefully. "It is not for us to know the pattern that the Wheel of Time weaves. We can only try and follow God's plan. We must remember that God is love."

The Hybrid droned nonstop. _"…the sins they cry for succor in the dark of the light of the gate…"_

"It's funny, isn't it?" said Korben. "We're all God, Natalie, all of us. See, our souls are sparks from God's divine fire. Therefore we are all God. Heaven is returning to the wholeness of God. I see the love that binds all living things together." Korben looked down to the Hybrid. "I know that God loved the humans more than all other living creatures and they repaid his divine love with sin, with hate, corruption, evil. So then he decided to create the Cylons, using his first children as the tools."

"_End of line,"_ droned the Hybrid. _"New paragraph. The search for the home in all her ecstasy take you back to the rapturous end and beginning without sweet union of love your sins are revealed in the light of the gate reduction occurs in stepwise reunion with the city of the ancient ones must be measured. New paragraph. System check…"_

Natalie sat down beside Korben. Sometimes she wondered about the sanity of the Number Two model line. The Two's were sometimes a little too mystical. At least the Number Three's balanced them out by questioning everything, by being inquisitive. Perhaps that was part of God's plan.

She said, "Why are we here? In this chamber, I mean. It won't be too long before the Raiders jump back and tell us the coordinates to where the Colonial fleet jumped."

Korben still listened to the Hybrid droning on. He knew what Natalie was talking about. The agents in that expedition fleet, including his brother, Leoben, send out radio signals containing the fleet's jump coordinates. The Cylons jump in; send out raiders to intercept the radio signals that propagated out into space. The raiders return, update the Baseships' datastream, then the Cylon fleet jumps to the indicated coordinates only to repeat the whole process. This time, the Baseships had jumped ahead to this star system instead of staying behind the Colonials in order to fill up the fuel tanks. The raiders could continue the pursuit of the Colonials for a while.

"…_the elements shall clash system check system check the tylium must flow…"_

Natalie glanced sharply at the Hybrid and frowned slightly. The Hybrid had just said what Korben said minutes ago.

"…_the tylium will flow to a confrontation at the home of the gods, at a shining planet circling a distant and unknown star the thirteen children of the gods reunite. Weep, children of the makers, for reunions are a bitch. Contact is inevitable, leading to information bleed for a closed system lacks the ability to renew itself, knowledge alone is a poor primer…"_

The Hybrid's eyes seemed to focus and looked directly at Natalie. A chill went through the Six. This was not supposed to be happening. Korben's eyes sharpened. "Now here it is…."

"_Zeus sees all, Number Six, sees your pain, your destiny. All the gods weep for you."_

Thrown off guard for the second time this day, Natalie glanced at Korben who seemed to be watching with fascination. What was going on? She momentarily searched for words and lamely said, "There is no Zeus. There is no other gods but God."

"_The neuroanatomy of fear and faith share common afferent pathways. Flip a coin. Increased vascular pressure marks the threat response, free will scuttles in the swamp of fear, do not fear the word. __Natalie Faust, you are Pandora. Open the box. Open, for hope burns like a fire."_

This time, Natalie was struck speechless, her mouth hanging open soundlessly. The Hybrid had directly and specifically addressed her! Suddenly, a hand rushed from within the glowing amniotic fluid in the tank. The Hybrid grabbed Natalie's wrist, her dark eyes burning into the Six's blue eyes.

Gasping, Natalie felt as if she was falling into the dark pools within the Hybrid's eyes.

She stood in complete darkness. Bewildered, Natalie looked around, her eyes gone as wide as they possibly could be to catch any hint of light. Where was the Hybrid? Korben? The Baseship? Screams and wails came out of the darkness. The sounds of gunfire. The screams and wails increased.

Natalie continued to look around.

A blue light slowly came on, seemingly without any source. At Natalie's feet, there were bodies. Bodies of the Cylon models and Centurions, bloodied, torn and mangled. All dead. The screams and wails slowly died away. The light continued to slowly brighten, now turned red by the reflecting blood. Now Natalie saw that she stood in a killing field. The bodies and gore stretched as far as she could see. Occasionally, she could see broken bits of Raiders scattered in the field. Gasping with horror, she raised trembling hands to her mouth. What hell was this?

It was then she found that she was holding a torn piece of cloth in a clenched hand. She looked down at it and saw it was a circle containing a lambda symbol or an upside-down capital V with a tiny circle attached at the lambda's apex.

The light went out, casting Natalie into darkness. The darkness was momentary as the light brightened once more to reveal that she was sitting by the Hybrid's tank. All was the time as before except a clammy wetness on her wrist where the Hybrid had grabbed her. Natalie was breathing hard.

Korben leaned toward her and whispered, "What happened? The Hybrid grabbed you only for an instance and let go. That was less than a second ago. What did you see?"

Natalie did not answer. She looked down at the Hybrid who was not looking at Natalie anymore. Her eyes were back to their normal unfocused gaze. She was saying monotonously, _"…when God's anger awakens, even the mighty shall fall, apotheosis was the beginning before the beginning yet false gods, false idols rule the stars, meet them to your peril, we dance in the ballroom of the skies with the pale blue dot, the blue marble in the sky. A million years into the sky is the Sun, once sealed and buried for all time, his gateway to heaven. The gateway is the herald of the apocalypse, the harbinger of death. We must not go through Heaven's door. When the makers and the cousins reunite, hope springs eternal. A hope that burns like a fire, bringing dreams of paradise un-lost, mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo and love no more. End of line."_

Natalie remembered the screams, the wails, the gunfire and the bodies. Seized with a sense of urgency, she asked, "What does that mean? Tell me!"

"…_tylium refueling complete FTL system check complete. Detecting FTL jumps. Handshake handshake handshake. Raiders 12 through 17 report mission success. Downloading jump coordinates. Ready for execution. Heavenly Father, grant us the strength, the wisdom, and above all, a measure of acceptance, however small."_

A chill went through Natalie again. What the Hybrid just said was the Prayer to the Cloud of Unknowing which was performed by Cylons when they believe that downloading is impossible and final death is near.

The rugged blond man sitting by her seemed just as dumbfounded.

"…_coordinating with my sisters spooling up FTL. As the ancient ones freed themselves, let your indulgences set me free…" _The pale woman in the tank paused in her droning, parted her lips and half-closed her eyes as she said decisively, "Jump." The Hybrid gasped and arched her neck and back in orgasmic pleasure.

As one, the Siegestar, the Resurrection Ship and the Basestars powered up their jump drives. In almost instantaneous succession, they were swallowed by flashes of white light and Cherenkov radiation.

The tylium refinery on its asteroid was alone once more with its patrolling Raiders, the neighboring asteroids and the distant sun known in Colonial star-charts as J23R7.

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

The occupants of the Secure Conference Room, or SCR, stood at attention upon the entrance of the _Galactica_'s distinguished commander. The Marine sentries outside closed the external hatch as soon as Adama entered; Adama had to close the internal hatch himself. In this meeting not even executive officers were allowed. Various eavesdropping countermeasures were automatically activated as soon as the internal hatch was shut, including white-noise piped-in through the speakers inside the SCR and the surrounding buffer spaces around, above, and below the compartment. The SCR was a giant, sound-insulated, faraday cage floating inside a compartment, held aloft by rubber springs. Whatever computers it held inside were neither connected by wireless nor hard lines to the rest of the ship.

In all, there were fourteen commanders in the SCR. Adama was joined by Commander Belzen as well as Commander Nat Dollan of the _Heroic_, the two cruiser commanders, four destroyer commanders, four replenishment ship commanders, and one repair ship commander along with Colonel Lionel Carthan, the commander of the Marine Strike Force. The rest of the expeditionary task force was composed of civilian ships and their commanders would never gain a clearance anywhere near high enough to gain access to the SCR of a Battlestar.

"Commanders, be seated." Adama said without preamble, proceeding to the head of the rectangular table. "Thanks for coming," he added in his usual disinterested voice that conveyed anything but disinterest.

Peering through his spectacles, Adama worked the controls on his side of the table, fishing out a computer chip from a pocket and inserting it into a reader. Adama's hand hovered over the image that appeared on the flat surface of the conference table. With a flick of the wrist as if in a throwing motion, Adama distributed the image to the rest of his commanders. Copies of the image appeared in front of each ship commander on the flat surfaces of the table in front of them.

"You're all familiar with that." Adama addressed them, interlacing his fingers in front of him. The images he showed them were those taken by subsequent Stealthstar mission. "You're also familiar with the orders of this expedition." The expedition's first order was to find the Colonies' original homeworld of Kobol. As far as most of the expedition's personnel were concerned, it was the only order. The other order, which was also its mandate and probably the only reason why the expedition was launched at all, was to discover new sources of tylium to supplant the Colonies' dwindling supplies. The fact that the tylium supply of the Colonies was dwindling was a highly secret piece of information. It was so secret that the possibility of it being mentioned or alluded to warranted using the Secure Conference Room.

"I need options commanders." Adama said, looking each of his commanders in the eye.

"Sir," Commander Maura Konnar of the Gunstar _Thebes_ was the first to speak, "I don't want to be the coward but we should get the simplest things out of the way first. We're obviously being followed, so either the Cylons have a miracle super-Dradis or there is some sort of tracking beacon implanted in one of the ships of the expedition. In accordance with our orders to avoid contact with the Cylons at all costs, I propose the option that we abort this expedition and head back."

"That's fearless of you to put it out there, Commander. Infiltration of the fleet by enemy agents is foremost on my mind," Adama said. "Aborting the mission is obviously not my first choice of options, but thanks for getting it out of the way. The political repercussions of the Cylons beating us to Kobol and preventing us from landing there are—I hate to say the word—disastrous. Let's not forget about our 'mandate' and what it means for the future of the Colonies." His commanders had been as shocked as he was after they were briefed by him about the current state of the Colonies' supply of tylium. Due to operational necessities, they needed to know.

Adama knew about Konnar's position regarding the importance of the expedition. She did not agree with the Colonial Fleet's risk assessment of the factors involved and what factors could eventually become involved. Being this far out here with only this meager combat power in the task force was simply asking for it, in her opinion. She was one of the best. She knew it and Adama knew it, which was why she was chosen to be a part of this expedition. The Fleet probably felt that her sense of caution would be an asset to Adama. He hoped her caution was professional and not because of the rumors he'd heard about the commander.

"If they're following us," Commander Cullen Jackson of the Gunstar _Atreus_ cut in with just a hint of levity in his voice, "why not lead them on a merry chase for a bit, sir? If they knew where Kobol was, they'd have beaten us to it. They've always had better jump drives than we do."

Commander Jackson had made his position about the mission clear to Adama previously. Though he was alarmed at the current state of the Colonies' tylium reserves, he was of the opinion that the fleet's efforts should have been wholly focused on the exploration for tylium and not this gallivanting around the galaxy in the search for the mythical homeworld, which would likely result in a fizzle rather than a bang. Jackson wasn't convinced that Kobol ever existed. They were simply heading into another star with a possible inhabitable planet, which was good, but in all possibilities would not have been Kobol.

Opinions aside, Jackson was a known quantity to Adama. From past operations, Jackson had proven himself to be unfazed by dire situations and cool under fire. He was also a brilliant intelligence analyst and combat support planner when not being insubordinate with too much familiarity. The man graduated with the highest honors at the Colonial Officers Battle Staff School (COBSS). Jackson had even served two years as a staffer at Fleet Operations, brilliantly, according to his Officer Evaluation Reports (OER), but he was somewhat indelicate when it came to the sensibilities of the officers he worked for. Adama could not complain. Their loss was his gain.

Adama had previously considered that option, but eventually rejected it. A misdirection maneuver would only be effective if there were a lot of jump destinations that lent credence as to why a task force would jump there. Most of the stars that populated this area of space were red dwarves—the most boring places in the galaxy. There was not enough hydrogen, so the result was a stunted star. What were the chances of finding anything interesting within its shallow gravity well? The rest of the neighborhood was blue super giants, whose radiation outputs were too dangerous to get near. The only main sequence star in the neighborhood was that of the luminary of Kobol. A misdirection maneuver would lead him to two types of places: boring or dangerous. The Cylons would see through it in an instant.

"What the frak do you think they'll do when they notice that we're going everywhere except the single main sequence star in the neighborhood, huh?" Commander Arlen Arana of the Gunstar _Latinus_ spoke testily. "I can't think of a more obvious ploy to tell them to get there before we do!"

Jackson shrank back, leaning into his backrest. It was a typical response by people to Commander Arana's personality. Amongst the task force commanders, he was considered the foremost expert on ship-to-ship combat. He always found ways to terrorize his crew into performing expertly in any slugfest. It was either luck or the man's skill in terrorizing his crew that he managed to come out battered but victorious in any scrap.

"A merry chase is out of the question." Adama said before Arana could get a chance to work himself up some more into a short-tempered fit. "It's nice to get it out of the way."

Commander Belzen spoke for the first time. "I agree; a game of cat and mouse won't work here."

"It's obvious, sir, that we only have two options: stay and fight or cut and run." Commander Donnell Halloran of the Escortstar _Castor_ said, a veteran of countless escort duties and its inherent dangers. "This is exactly the kind of fight that the _Castor_ is built for. We'll take some losses, sure, but we'll burn the toasters enough that they'll run with their toasted tails tucked between their toasted legs."

"I admire Commander Halloran's enthusiasm for a fight with the toasters but is it really worth it risking the lives of all these civilians for political gain?" Konnar responded. "Sir, we can't fight effectively if we have to worry about the civilians, too. If we try, we could end up getting slaughtered or end up abandoning the civilians in a hasty retreat. If we withdraw, Kobol will still be there. We could come back with a much stronger task force, retake Kobol and even take a swing at that tylium asteroid the Cylons are so keen on holding with that oversized garrison."

"If it is Kobol," Jackson added. "And that's a big 'if.' What if there's no inhabitable planet orbiting the star?"

"But what if there is?" Halloran speculated. "The least we can do is find out."

"Even if it's not Kobol and it is an inhabitable planet, that discovery alone would count for a really big something. That star is worth at least one recon mission." Adama thought aloud. "At least we found that Cylon tylium source."

"By the time we bring back a stronger task force, the Cylons will have also increased the size of their garrison substantially in proportion to what they estimate to be our level of commitment. They are a known quantity now. Once we leave this volume of space, they will become an unknown quantity again." The previously buoyant Jackson was now replaced by the sober, analytical officer Adama had come to respect. "And I doubt the Cylons will allow us to leave unmolested. A courier ship will not survive their interdiction. The only way to bring this information back to Colonial space is to carry it, ourselves."

"Do you recommend that we abort our mission, Commander?" Adama inquired, removing the spectacles from his eyes.

"I do, sir, as soon as we ascertain what our destination star holds." Halloran answered. "This information must reach the Colonies."

"We're going to have to fight our way out of this one." Arana commented.

"I've noticed something else, sir." Jackson said.

"What is it, Commander?" Adama asked.

"The strength of the Cylon mining garrison seems unusually high." Jackson said, looking intently into the pictures on the table. "This is simple speculation on my part since we have no point of reference, but if this mine were ours, even at our current state, it would only warrant four Gunstars at the most, not a full Battlestar. We've identified at least four Basestars. Furthermore, there appears to be no escorts. This fact is consistent with historical patterns of the Cylon's fleet doctrine. They don't use escorts, so we can't conclude that our Gunstars match the firepower of those Basestars. This leads me to conclude that each of those Basestars carries a level of firepower intermediate of a Gunstar and a Battlestar. Their survivability, however, is an unknown quantity, so I can't theorize on the outcome of an engagement with them."

"We'll find that out soon enough." Halloran commented somewhat eagerly.

"I wish we didn't have the godsdamned civilians to hold us back in this fight." Arana complained.

"If you're right about the firepower of these Basestars, then we definitely should avoid engagement." Konnar said. "The civilians are going to get slaughtered."

"I'm afraid we may not have a choice. We know something is afoot, but no specifics. Because of that, they will not let us leave in peace." Jackson replied, still preoccupied by the recon images on the table. He shifted them around, his hands hovering on the surface, not touching it. "A mining operation doesn't warrant this level of firepower, unless the Cylons have become insanely powerful to be able to allocate this much just for this. And if they have, they could have crushed the Colonies in very short order long ago. Think about two of those Basestars as equivalent to one Battlestar. That means that this one mining operation is garrisoned by two Battlestars. This is just one point in space, think about the distribution routes and the borders that have to be patrolled, not to mention the garrisons needed for inhabited star systems. I'm missing something here. What is so special about the tylium on this asteroid? It's in the middle of nowhere!"

"They're probably wondering the same thing about us, too." Commander Dayanora Korvalis of the Repair Ship _Molenon Bay_ spoke for the first time.

"What?" Arana grunted. "What the frak does that have to do with anything?"

"Watch your tongue around me, young man!" Korvalis retorted.

"A couple of years do not entitle you to call me 'young man,'" Arana shot back.

Adama cleared his throat. Jackson grinned. Konnar suppressed a giggle. Halloran arched an eyebrow. The rest of the commanders in the SCR probably rolled their eyes.

"As I was saying," Korvalis reasserted. "They're probably wondering why a few civilian ships would warrant a Battlestar escort with Gunstars along for the ride. Unusual, eh?"

"Don't treat us like idiots old lady; we're commanders of the Colonial Fleet!" Arana groused. "The answer is simple: those broke-dick scientists are a precious commodity to some powerful politicians."

"Precisely," Korvalis replied, never losing her composure to Arana's provocation.

"Tylium is precious, we all know that." Arana said in mock frustration. "You're not saying that the toasters have VIPs on that rock, are you? I should have said VITs for 'very important toasters'."

"Since when do the Cylons have VIPs?" One of the other commanders on the far end of the table said. Adama could see the rest of the commanders agreeing with the question.

"You're all getting this entirely wrong." Korvalis replied. "Supply and demand, gentlemen and ladies. When there is less and the world needs more, even the things that were once next to worthless become valuable."

"If tylium has become more important to the Cylons than ever before, that could only mean one thing." Jackson thought aloud. "It means that we are not alone in our tylium predicament."

Both Belzen and Colonel Carthan arched their eyebrows at that idea. Belzen then spoke up. "It could explain why they have so many assets this far out. The search for tylium is pushing them in newer directions, away from the Armistice Line."

Korvalis nodded. "They could also be looking to deny us resources in case of war. Beat us to it now so we can't get to it later. Makes a lot of sense strategically."

"It means that the tylium asteroid is a highly strategic asset to the Cylons." Adama interjected into the conversation. "It also means that our knowledge of it guarantees that we'll be in the fight for our lives the moment we attempt to leave. That oversized garrison was there following us to make sure we never bring this information back to the Colonies."

"That leaves us back where we started: do we stay or do we go?"

**Raptor 239**

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

Two months. It had been nearly two months into this mission. Two months of random jumps into uncharted space on a course that seemed to make no sense. Two months of calculating and recalculating jumps followed by recon missions and surveys, all of which turned up nothing. Space was an empty void as beautiful and unforgiving as the sea. And yet, much like the sea was just as reluctant to give up her mysteries and wonders.

The fleet even now was deep in uncharted space, tracing a lost route from the Colonies back to the birth world of humanity, to the origins of their people. Kobol or more commonly known to Fleet Astronomical as Sector 728. It had all seemed too fantastical to believe. Even now, he still couldn't wrap his head around the concept. The Old Man had called it a voyage of discovery; the priests had called it a miracle from the gods. But the reactions from most of the crew were rather curious. There were many who were devout in their faith in the gods and truly embraced what they believed to be a divine mission with a near fanatical intensity that slightly unnerved him. Others were more wary of provoking the Cylons. They were those members of the crew whose entire bloodline had nearly been wiped out, their families still recovering from that most horrible of wars. And then there were those like himself, rationally skeptic about their mission and yet hopeful of the outcome. But of all the things he expected to feel on this most unusual of missions nothing compared to the joy of feeling hours of complete frakking boredom in his Raptor.

"You know Boomer, Racetrack has three to one odds we won't find anything, again." Carl 'Helo' Agathon said with a mocking half smile as the two made their way toward their Raptor at the far end of the maintenance bay. The bay itself was a beehive of activity as the crews moved in the efficient and controlled chaos that was normal on a Battlestar flight pod. The sound of machinery was almost deafening to their ears as they moved deeper into the bay with row upon row of Mark VII Vipers safely tucked into their alcoves with maintenance crews crawling over them like ants. It was a sight, the controlled chaos around them, and as they moved deeper into the bay the sheer hurricane of activity almost threatened to engulf them. It was just another day aboard a Battlestar.

Boomer rolled her eyes in annoyance as the two stepped aside to step out of the way of a trolley pulling yet another Mark VII Viper towards the machine shops. "Okay I admit I'm three bottles of ambrosia in the hole. But I'm gonna win this thing, you just watch!"

"I just don't want to see all that hazard duty pay go to waste is all. You still owe me a steak dinner from _our_ little bet" Helo shot back.

"You mean like when you blew all your pay on a stripper called 'Molly Mounds' on your first night back from your first deployment?"

"Boy that was a wild night; sadly I don't remember most of it. Those little succubus's' on Picon really know how to take you for all your money." Helo looked at her with a smile "And no hitting below the belt. The night that shall not be talked about, ever."

"Sure, you're the expert." Boomer snickered.

"I just don't want to see you get taken for a ride is all I'm saying. Racetrack is notorious for cleaning out rooks who end up owing her favors. And she always collects." Helo warned. He was forced to side step two deckhands in orange coveralls hauling a large piece of equipment he couldn't make out.

"The same way you got taken for a ride?"

Helo winked at her "Keeps the gloves up Boomer. But I gotta hand it to you though; at least you didn't make the mistake of betting against Starbuck, that's always a losing game; even Racetrack knows not to do that."

"Tell me about it. The woman's luck is almost supernatural."

"Listen to the voice of wisdom that is your ECO." Helo smiled. The two stopped just short of their Raptor to find Chief Tyrol and two of his deckhands crawling over the craft.

"Lieutenants," Chief Galen Tyrol nodded respectfully. Chief Tyrol was _Galactica_'s Senior Chief aboard ship. Like all Battlestars, _Galactica_ had two Chiefs, each one in charge of one of the ships massive flight pods. Tyrol ran the port bay while his opposite number, Chief Jaxon Dexel ran the starboard flight pod. But with Tyrol being Senior Chief aboard ship he was technically in charge of both bays and all maintenance operations aboard ship. And nothing happened on the Old Girl without him having a hand in it.

"Morning Chief," Boomer smiled widely. A little too widely whenever she was in the presence of the Chief. It was something Helo had picked up on very quickly but didn't comment on. What Boomer did in her off time and with who was her business, not his.

"How is she?" Helo asked nodding toward the Raptor.

"We've loaded your Raptor for bear, sir. Specialized sensor buoys to drop into orbit and gather readings, high optic digital cameras, everything you need for a planetary survey. And of course a few missiles and decoys if you happen to run into trouble."

"Nice." Helo nodded. "Think we might actually find something this time?" He asked the question with feigned nonchalance and received a dirty look from Boomer in return.

"The Old Man seems to think so as does that archeology type that's been on _Galactica_ the past few days. They both seem to think this recon mission might actually find something." The Chief said it with a glimmer of hope. As if to emphasize his point Helo glanced over the Chief's shoulder further down the bay and saw two other Raptors lock into place on separate elevators as their airlock doors cycled closed behind them.

"Twelve Raptors for one recon mission, eight more for gunship escort," The Chief shook his head in bafflement, "I've never heard of that many being used for a peacetime operation that wasn't search and rescue."

"Only four Raptors are detailed to hit the planet chief. The other eight are scouting the rest of the star system." The others were looking for what the CAG, Major Spencer described as 'key points of interest'.

_Whatever that means_, Helo snorted.

"Anything we need to know about our bird?" Boomer asked.

"Yeah. Make sure you hit the trap the next time. I don't feel like stripping the gimbal again or hammering out more dents from the hull."

"It's not my fault!" Boomer shot back instantly defensive, "That was a bad gimbal; it totally threw off my approach!"

"Sure thing, sir," The Chief replied sarcastically, "I believe you."

Boomer turned a curious shade of red that was almost cute. And Helo decided to intervene before she exploded on the Chief. Attraction or not her reputation was at stake and even Raptor jocks had considerable egos. The Chief would not be spared her wrath. Especially as their Raptor's gimbal was always a touchy subject with her.

"So we're in good shape then?" Helo asked.

The Chief couldn't resist giving Boomer one last smug little smirk before turning to face Helo.

_Don't tempt fate Chief._

"She's running like a champ sir, we completely replaced that faulty transceiver that was acting up on your last mission and we've updated all the software and data links. Cally is double checking everything now."

"All good in here Chief!" Cally called out. The young deckhand appeared from the doorway, clad in her orange coveralls and helmet and expertly dismounted the Raptor.

"Perfect, let's go Boomer." Helo said. As he boarded the Raptor he couldn't help but notice Boomer give the Chief the evil eye before bounding up the Raptor after him. As the airlock door cycled closed behind them she took her pilots seat as Helo took his seat at his station.

"You know that gimbal was bad, right?" Boomer asked. She activated the ships systems in sequence, careful not to ignite the ships thrusters within the maintenance bay and pulled out her checklist.

Apparently she wasn't going to let this go.

"It looked bad to me." Helo quickly said, hoping she'd drop the subject.

"ECO's are supposed to back up their pilots. We're a team, it's a rule."

"I am but a lowly worm for not coming to your defense."

"Don't you forget it Mister" Boomer smiled triumphantly. "Primary Fuel?"

"Check" Helo said from the backseat as the two began to run down their checklist.

"Primary DRADIS?"

"Check."

"Secondary DRADIS?

The young man's hands flashed across his control board with practiced ease, "Also, check."

"Weapons?"

Again the young man checked his boards "Locked down and secure."

"Sensor buoys?"

"Ready."

"FTL?"

"Systems in the green and jump coordinates loaded."

"Life support?"

The young man carefully checked his readouts again. "We have confirmed hard seal. Oxygen, pressure and temperature control all read in the green. Gravity levels at optimal."

"Engines?"

"Main thrusters primed, RCS thrusters are in the green. All systems are a go Boomer." Helo said from the back seat of their Raptor.

"Confirmed," Boomer echoed from the front pilot's seat. The two Colonial pilots quickly locked their vacuum-rated flight helmets into place. Boomer gave thumbs up to Chief Tyrol through the window which the Chief returned. The Chief then motioned for his deckhands to clear the deck which they complied at once. The heavy doors of the flight elevator their Raptor was secured to cycled closed; drawing out all oxygen as the elevator slowly raised the Raptor from the maintenance bay to the flight deck above.

In a matter of seconds the Raptor was raised to the dimly lit flight pod of the port landing bay. Helo and Boomer gradually adjusted to the feel of gravity easing off its hold over them before Helo switched over to internal gravity. _Galactica_, like all Battlestars, kept their landing bays at a reduced gravity for ease of movement and recovery of their birds. It was a tactic pioneered in the Cylon War and had quickly become standard for all Colonial ships.

"_Raptor Two Three Niner, Galactica Launch Control, take off from port landing bay, pad two, standby for launch, over."_

"_Galactica_, Raptor Two Three Niner, standing by for launch, pad two, aye." Boomer echoed into the voice activated Integrated CommSuite in her flight suit's helmet.

"So Boomer," Helo spoke up. "Are you going to see the movie tonight?"

"What are they playing?"

"_Taking Cimtar_. It's a classic."

"No thanks." Boomer shook her head." What is with everyone watching those old war movies anyway?"

Helo shrugged. "Don't know, but I guess it might have something to do with the growing belief of us being in unknown space with Cylons at every turn. Either that or we're scrounging the bottom of the barrel. We've already gone through all the new movies the Fleet kindly sent us."

Boomer snorted "That's all we need, getting the crew all riled up for a fight that'll never happen."

"You don't think the Cylons will be back?" Helo asked.

"If they were I'd think they would have been back long before now." She said with finality.

"_Raptor Two Three Niner, Galactica Launch Control, you are cleared to launch, launch when ready."_

"Roger that _Galactica_, launching now." Boomer responded. She ignited the Raptor's main thrusters and carefully brought it up to a slow climb, and then carefully goosing the RCS thrusters, she angled for the end of the flight pod and into open space.

"Uhhg." Boomer growled in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Helo asked even as he instantly began checking his boards for any sign of a problem he might have missed.

"Maneuverability is kinda sluggish. I think it's all the extra weight we're carrying."

"You should hit the gym more." Helo quipped.

"Not funny!"

"Okay, serious."

"We're fully loaded out with weapons and survey gear, it's just gonna be a little more difficult to maneuver is all I'm saying. It takes some getting used to." Boomer said.

"Well with luck this will be the only mission in which we're weighed down this much." Helo said.

"Good because I got a bet riding on this mission, double or nothing." Boomer grinned. Helo rolled his eyes. Rooks, the only way to learn was the hard way. Helo settled into his seat as Boomer effortlessly brought their raptor away from the massive Galactica and into formation with the rest of their recon group.

"Goat herders off our port and starboard," Boomer piped up.

Helo checked his DRADIS and sure enough spotted two gunship Raptors from the Marinestar _Heroic_ coming up on their port and starboard. Their gunship escorts for this mission.

"Have you ever been aboard a Marinestar?" Boomer asked from the pilot's seat.

"Can't say that I have," Helo answered. "But I wouldn't mind a future posting on one."

"Not a very prestigious assignment and I value my career too much." Boomer replied. "I heard serving aboard one of those is a death sentence to your career."

"Boomer we're serving aboard _Galactica_, the Grand Old Lady of the Fleet; while at one point in time that would have been a very prestigious posting its not anymore."

"Says you." Boomer replied. "I requested _Galactica_."

"Why? I mean I know you turned down a posting on the _Solaria_, but why choose _Galactica_?" Helo asked.

Boomer was quiet for a long moment and Helo wondered if she had actually heard him. He was about to turn and ask again when she finally replied.

"Because this ship has a destiny and I wanted to be a part of it."

That answer made Helo raise his eyebrows and he was about to ask what that meant when suddenly the scrambler kicked on.

"_All Raptors, Racetrack, check in."_

"Boomer checking in, all systems in the green, we're good to go."

"_Firefly checking in, all systems go."_

"_Hayden checking in, ready to rock!"_

"_Guard Dog One checking in, all systems go."_

"_Guard Dog Two checking in, good to go."_

"_Galactica, Racetrack, Recon Team Alpha formed and ready to jump to sector 728 for planetary survey mission."_

"_Racetrack, Galactica Actual, be careful out there and may the lords watch over you."_

"_Roger that Actual. We'll be jumping in twenty."_ Racetrack's voice then came over the recon team's frequency. _"All right everyone you all have your jump coordinates, let's make it happen."_

"Spinning up FTL," Boomer said. Her jump indicator quickly reached the green. 'We're ready to jump." She turned to face him. Helo gave her a thumbs up.

"Jumping!"

And one by one the Raptors disappeared into the void as they jumped away on the most important mission in the history of the Colonies.

**PXG-147**

Colonel David Dixon, United States Air Force, had seen some pretty God-awful things in his 24 year career. Most of it he hated even contemplating. As a young officer, he'd deployed to northern Iraq in 1991 for Operation Provide Comfort. The mission had been to provide humanitarian assistance to hundreds of thousands of Kurds who'd fled Iraq, fearful of retribution from Saddam Hussein's regime. They had reason to fear, as the United States had encouraged them to rise up as a way of weakening the Iraqis during the Gulf War, only to leave them hanging without assistance at its conclusion. While there he'd seen his fair share of what he simply called 'shit', namely men, women and children dying of every imaginable disease, atrocity or unnamed malady. Later he'd worked in South America; a part of one of the US military's most clandestine operations, tracking drug producers and traffickers as well as kidnappers and every other brand of third world trash known to man.

While in Belize and Columbia he'd watched parents sell their children over debts, drug growers slash throats and had seen viciousness hardly imaginable in the States. On one occasion in Columbia, his team had been conducting surveillance on a large hacienda for weeks, building a photographic and electronic record of the comings and goings of certain Cartel leaders. He hadn't expected much to come of it, what with the 'War on Drugs' being what it was and the locals as corrupt as they were. But then one day, his team, ensconced in a tree grove not far off, watched as growers took those unlucky or stupid enough to have pissed them off in some fashion, tied them to a rod and proceeded to cook them, like so much roast pig, over an open camp fire. Dixon didn't know who the victims were, and in a way, he didn't care. No one in that part of the world was truly innocent. There was blood, almost like the original sin Catholics speak of, on everyone's hands there.

Colonel Dixon had seen some bad stuff in his time, but at the moment he debated whether the contents of the small, white cardboard container he carried might be worse. He played the odds in his head as to whether the contents would kill him or simply cause Montezuma's Revenge. The debate raged in his mind with no clear answer in sight. He'd gotten the container and its contents, namely eggs, ham and toast, from the small tent-like facility that he strode away from. It had a typically military acronym: SPEK, or Single Pallet Expeditionary Kitchen. The Air Force's idea of a deployed mess facility, its purpose was to feed troops in remote or undeveloped locations for specified periods of time. And Dixon's current location certainly qualified as 'undeveloped'. He knew that the contents of the container were probably better than MRE's or some other concoction but that didn't mean it was a four star gourmet either. His kids had always asked when they were little to eat odd things for breakfast, like Doritos or Marshmallow Fluff. At the moment those sounded pretty good to him.

It was a comfortable enough morning, temperatures rising into the sixties and the sky a pleasant shade of light blue interrupted only by a few high altitude cumulus clouds. The planet itself was beautifully unspoiled, with low-slung mountain ranges and forests as far as the eye could see and the air was crisp, lacking any spoiling from human creations. For the first time in days he'd slept well, getting a full night of six to seven hours of uninterrupted sleep after doing what he considered light reading, namely the latest _Air Power Journal_. That luxury probably explained why he seemed in a better mood this morning than at any time in days. Now if he could just keep everyone happy.

It had been over two months since the first reconnaissance of the unnamed and uninhabited planet that Dixon found himself on and it had flown by with speed rarely seen. The first MALP recon had discovered a functioning gate among magnificent but dilapidated and overgrown ruins; a scene taken straight from an _Indiana Jones_ movie. The previous occupants, whoever they had been and undoubtedly long since dead, had positioned the gate within a massive domed structure of stone within a fairly good sized city of similar construction. That 'fairly good sized city' upon closer examination was in fact only a small part of what had so far shown to be the remains of a massive culture of unknown vintage. The resident archeologists and Ancient specialists at the SGC had hooped and hollered, as much such educated people do, as the first images had been received, reminiscent of NASA engineers landing a rover on Mars. That had led to a series of impassioned pleas and briefings leading to a manned recon mission headed by none other than Colonel Dixon and SG-13, with another team in support.

In his years at the SGC, Dixon had seen his share of ruins and uninhabited planets. They had a tendency, he noted wryly to an SGC archeologist, of not staying uninhabited for long. Such was the case with his latest find. None other than Doctor Daniel Jackson had accompanied the initial foray and had broken into a smile of epic proportions. That tended to worry Dixon, as it meant the place in question would attract attention, either from superiors looking for results or hostiles looking to take what you found. He did not like either one. He had scars from both.

"Morning sir."

Dixon looked over to the source of the salutation, wearing Navy-issue BDU's with the world famous Trident on his left chest. "Good morning Commander. At least the weather's cooperating."

United States Navy Lieutenant Commander Jon Harper, carrying his own cardboard container of death, took a quick glance at the sky, as if checking for a sudden change in fortunes. "Yeah, I think we dodged a bullet on that one. I was afraid this was going to be another Afghanistan. Bagram in February sucks. Nothing but snow, goats and fucking sheep herders"

"No argument there."

Harper was the newly appointed commander of SG-44, an all-Navy SEAL team. He'd worked at the SGC a few years earlier and returned after a stint with an East Coast-based SEAL team travelling the Middle East where the hunt for Al-Qaeda elements was in full swing in hot spots like Afghanistan and Yemen. Articulate and aggressive, he fit the typical SEAL mold, that of a bulked-up runner with quick reflexes. Harper and his fellow SEAL's had been tasked with helping Dixon and his Air Force team secure the SGC's latest find and protect the scientific staff until long-term arrangements were agreed upon. Their tiny expedition had gained the tentative moniker of Operational Mission 7 Alpha for whatever reason.

"What's the plan today sir?"

"Well, we're supposed to get a construction update and the SGC's dialing in later with supplies and I think, maybe some more bodies. Plus, the scientists want to take another nature walk."

"Any word on our replacements?" Harper wanted to go home as much as anyone.

"Not yet, hopefully today. They were talking about a flight of Security Forces guys from that group at Moody. This shit's their mission after all and this is turning into babysitting. My daughter's got a recital in a week and if I miss another one the wife's going to light my ass."

"Ugh. I have nothing personal against the Air Force sir, but these babysitting missions get to be a joke. You're wasting a lot of skilled military talent sitting here."

"Jon, I know how you feel. The SGC has never figured out how to staff these quick finds; there are too many and not enough people. Hopefully we'll get something today."

Dixon and Harper walked to a reinforced clam-shell structure and opened the door to enter. The small camp they were charged with defending had grown dramatically in three short weeks of work. When the decision was made to commit a long-term presence on the planet, the SGC had turned to one of its newest assets for help, the 64th RED HORSE Squadron. RED HORSE squadrons were one of the most useful tools in the Air Force arsenal. Standing for Rapid Engineer Deployable Heavy Operational Repair Squadron Engineers, they were self-contained combat engineers capable of showing up to the most desolate and empty locations and building whatever was needed, from airfields to fortified bases. They would bring everything required for such an effort and could stay in place for an extended period. Forty of the capable engineers were on the planet and had done spectacularly.

The squadron had arrived almost immediately, taken one look around the area and begun construction of a base camp with the typical expertise of the American military. It hadn't taken the engineers long to find a suitable location, almost a mile from the ruins in a defendable spot. The perimeter was ringed by triple strands of concertina razor wire with two fortified entry control points or ECP's as they were known, providing ingress and egress. A well was dug and a water purification system installed along with a latrine and shower facility. Next came the temporary buildings with both heat and air-conditioning as the SGC had no idea what the weather patterns were like. They also set up the SPEK facility that was now Dixon's concern. In reality, Dixon knew the food was pretty good. The food acted as the opening round of his morning briefing.

"So, where do we stand?"

"We're looking good at the moment sir. All of our identified issues are being worked and I'd say you'll have a fully functioning settlement by the end of the day. After that, you'll only need a caretaker staff of CE troops to handle maintenance and some Services personnel to handle the chow operation."

Air Force Lieutenant Colonel Marc Sadler was pretty confident in his people. As the deployed commander of the RED HORSE element, he'd watched his airmen set up a comfortable camp on an uninhabited planet light years from Earth with little to no warning. In his book, that was pretty good. He crossed his arms over his ABU blouse and leaned back in his chair.

"So this place is good in the short term?"

"Yes sir. The only real question is whether the SGC wants a more long term presence, as in actual permanent structures. It's good ground; it'll support that type of construction. If that's the case, we'll need a plan and more resources but it's fully doable. There's an ample water source that we can tap, the climate's agreeable, at least for now, and security doesn't appear to be a problem but that's more your area than ours."

"True. The SGC should be making some decisions pretty soon. We're expecting them to dial in today. Any concerns?"

"I just want them to make a decision. My engineers are pulling combat security on this complex and still doing construction and it's getting old. It's a part of our mission but not usually this long. Are we getting help?"

Dixon blew the air out of his cheeks. "Hopefully we'll get some news today. I'd like to get your people out of here Marc; they've done a great job and it's now a caretaker mission. Rumor is we're getting a couple flights of SF guys to take over. To be honest, I think this came up so fast that the SGC is playing catch-up. Big shock."

"Isn't it always?"

**Raptor 239**

With a flash of light and a fleeting feeling of vertigo Raptor 239 materialized from its jump…right on top of its target.

"OH FRAK!" Helo shouted from the back of the Raptor. Around them the proximity alarm and other sirens began wailing in protest.

For a moment Boomer didn't speak. She couldn't take her eyes off of the mesmerizing view of the planet practically taking up the entire forward window of the cockpit. Blinking slightly and shaking her head to regain her focus she pulled back on the throttle hard and gunned her thrusters to full burn to pull out of the nose dive their Raptor was in.

"Uhhggg… frak…me." Boomer groaned with the crushing weight of nearly six Gs of gravity pressing down on her as their Raptor slowly pulled out of its dive and into a more stable orbit.

For a moment the only sound in the Raptor was their heavy breathing as the two recovered from their little spat of excitement.

"Well this is already turning out to be more exciting than any of the last few survey missions we've done." Helo laughed.

"Gaeta! That frakking idiot!" Boomer growled still a little shaken from the ordeal.

Helo just laughed in amusement.

"You can't plan a jump that close to the planet. What if we had jumped into the damn thing?" Boomer snapped.

"Boomer relax, it's great, it's fine and we made it. No big deal." Helo laughed.

The two took a moment to take in the majestic view in the front window. Helo couldn't help but get up from his place at the rear of the Raptor and move in just behind Boomer's seat. The view that greeted him was breathtaking. Blue oceans…that was the first thing he noticed, brown landmasses of continents and white nimbus clouds. All the hints of a habitable world teeming with life. The sheer sense of awe that he felt at the moment was just indescribable. He just knew they had found something, and taking a moment to gaze at Boomer he could see her face mirrored exactly what he felt.

"Boomer," Helo said softly in wonder. "Are you seeing this?"

"Yeah," Boomer said barely above a whisper. It was if she couldn't find her voice.

Helo smiled as he took in the sight before him. "Oceans…continents." He felt a growing sense of excitement as he made his way back to his station. "Let me at this thing!"

He sat down and began to work his instruments. "Okay, atmosphere reads….nitrogen/oxygen." He smiled with growing excitement "CO2 count…within projected norms of a habitable planet. Looks good enough for vegetation and warm enough for water, but we'll need to drop sensor buoys for more detailed readings. But Boomer this is it! I think we've might have found it! We've found Kobol!"

"Kobol…" Boomer echoed in awe.

"_Boomer, Racetrack. Check in."_ Racetracks voice came in over the wireless.

"Racetrack, Boomer. We're still here. Everyone make it okay?" Boomer responded.

"_Everyone is accounted for. Are you guys okay over there? None of us could miss your little nose dive into the planet."_ Racetrack said. Boomer narrowed her eyes; she could tell by the tone of Racetrack's voice she wasn't all that worried and was just teasing her.

"We're fine over here; _thanks_ for asking. And we're ready to get to work." Boomer responded as she goosed her thrusters. She did a quick check of the navigation system and her relative position then goosed the thrusters again as she moved the Raptor to their assigned sector to begin their survey.

"_Are you guys seeing the same thing I'm seeing?" _A voice came out over the net.

"_If you're talking about a beautiful pristine world that no human has probably set foot on in at least two thousand years than yeah I'm right there with you, Hayden."_

"_By the Gods we've found Kobol!"_

"_Don't bust a nut in your panties just yet Firefly, we still got a job to do."_

"_How do we even know this is actually Kobol?" _another voice protested._ "It could be just another false alarm, like what Recon Two found three weeks ago."_

"_Well if you know of any other habitable planets that just happen to be right where Kobol is supposed to be I'm all ears."_

"_I'm just saying that we shouldn't be getting our hopes up just yet and—"_

"_Alright keep the chatter down."_ Racetrack ordered. _"Once you get to your assigned areas start dropping buoys so we can get better readings. We'll let the science guys figure it all out once we get back. By the book people let's keep this nice of professional."_ A series of acknowledgements followed as the Raptor teams broke off toward their assigned sectors.

"Boomer do you think this is Kobol?" Helo asked absently as he continued to collect readings from his DRADIS.

"I don't think its Kobol. I _know_ its Kobol."

"How can you be sure?" Helo asked.

"Call it a gut feeling." Boomer affirmed.

A steady beeping to her left grabbed her attention "Approaching first drop point." Boomer warned.

"I see it, standby. Dropping in three…two…one…mark!"

Helo depressed the release and with a slight shudder the buoy was away. The buoys they were using for this mission were specialized for planetary survey and had the most sensitive sensor systems the Colonies could produce. Although the Colonials lived on their twelve home worlds within the Cyrannus System, that didn't stop them from exploring nearby star systems and doing surveys of planets and moons for potential colonization and exploitation. Troy, Boomer's home world, had been just such a planet, a small mining colony on the fringe if Helo remembered correctly.

The two continued on in silence for the next half hour as they were too focused on their work and only talked when it was related to that work, so wrapped up they had been. They moved from drop point to drop point and deployed their buoys and took readings as they expertly performed their duties with the proud professionalism common to those in Colonial uniforms.

"That's the last one," Helo said as the last of the buoys were away. He had already collected a wealth of data on the planet thanks to his Raptors own sensors but the probes were giving him far more detailed look he wouldn't have been able to get with his Raptor's sensors.

"Now comes the really fun part." Boomer sighed as she settled more comfortably into her seat.

"Waiting?" Helo asked.

"Waiting," Boomer confirmed. "How's our fuel situation?"

"More than good," Helo replied.

**PXG-147**

Colonel Dixon continued to look down at his 'container of death' as it were and checked the next item on his daily agenda. Yes, his daily science lecture. _Let the games begin…_

"Alright Doctor, what's the latest on your end?"

Doctor Simon Coombs looked over at Dixon with the same sympathetic look he reserved for all the military officers, as if they were wayward students in need of benevolent guidance and a firm hand. An outsider might think they butted heads; in actuality they got along rather well by the standards of the typical SGC military/scientific relationship, which usually had more in common with a dysfunctional family suffering from communications issues.

"The same concerns I've had for two weeks Colonel. My team wants to get out into the field more and see what we're dealing with. Our initial research has been extremely positive. We're finding enormous amounts of evidence of Ancient influence here, albeit on a more primitive level than say, Atlantis or the Antarctica outpost, the city-ship non-withstanding. We need to start using more advanced sensors, especially if we can get one of the ships here with their Asgard-designed systems. I must reiterate, we need to do more exploration of the surrounding area and my superiors at the SGC are looking for results.

"The simple fact is that we're looking at a massive amount of ruins, it will take archeologists and others years to go through it all. We're only scratching the surface in our knowledge and understanding of the Ancients. We have so little background to work with, other than what we're getting at Atlantis and Jackson's interactions with the Ascended Ancients. There will be a lot of work to go around. This place makes Manchu Picchu look like my back yard."

For once, Dixon understood the scientist's frustration perfectly. They were on a seemingly deserted planet, devoid of sentient life, and wanted to get out and work. Dixon had been deliberately cautious in their few weeks on the planet given their exposed location. Any scientific trips into the countryside were accompanied by at least two of the eight SGC operators per his discretion. The lack of troops put a severe crimp in the scientific team's desires to explore and research. Because of it, they'd generally restricted themselves to the ruins located immediately at the gate itself and they weren't happy about it.

"Doc, I understand, I really do. But until I get more personnel to secure this outpost, I can't risk having you out there alone. We're far too exposed here but I want to help. I'll be taking you and some others out today and we're supposed to get an update from the SGC. I've requested a larger force to garrison this place. Once that happens, you'll have the run of this place."

"I can only hope."

Harper swallowed a mouthful of egg and looked over at the scientist. "It's not as if these ruins are going anywhere. Your estimates say it's been abandoned over 2,000 years, correct?"

"That's true Commander. I just sometimes think the SGC delays a lot of work so that they can maintain some semblance of control over it."

"Oh I don't think…"

"Give it some thought Commander. If they allowed us to work at our own pace and follow the evidence, they wouldn't be able to control the results nearly as well."

Harper rolled his eyes. "And who exactly is 'they'? We always hear about 'they'. For once I want someone to tell me who 'they' are and not refer to black helicopters or the always favorite 'military/industrial complex'."

"I just believe the governments of the IOA, which by the way has little oversight, feel threatened by the very scientists they ask to discover all these things and solve every problem out there. That's been the problem for as long as I've been with the SGC."

"With all due respect Doctor, the same could be said of the scientific side of the house as well. There are a lot of your associates back in Colorado who look at our people like lobotomized weightlifters…"

"Duly noted Commander. No one's without sin."

Dixon took in the entire conversation and laughed to himself. _You could take the human off Earth, but you couldn't take the ways of man out of him…_ Dixon let his little internal philosophizing go on for a few seconds and then got back on track.

"Guys, we could go around in circles for days. Doc, we'll get your people out there as soon as possible. I don't want to tie you down anymore than you want to be."

"I appreciate that Colonel. I know that the SGC has thrown you out here as well without much help. Commander, to finish what we were talking about, think of it this way for a moment. Since the beginnings of the program, its efforts have been at cross-purposes. The military side of the house naturally wants to play things cautiously, develop ties with potential allies and obtain technology that can lead to better defenses. That's the mandate given by the last two administrations and the leadership at the Pentagon, both civilian and military.

"My colleagues and I on the other hand, are about answering different questions, existential in nature. Who built this place? What were the Ancients truly like? How is this connected? What does this say about us and other humans in the universe? Eventually, the powers that be in Washington, London and the rest will need that information, whether to explain all this to the world at large or because we're facing a new culture asking questions that we'll have to answer.

"And really, think about this for a moment. Maybe the reason the scientific and military sides of the SGC clash so much is that we have more in common than anyone really wants to admit."

"I think that would scare some of your colleagues Doctor."

"All joking aside, all the military members at the SGC are among the world's finest, are they not? You don't get assigned there without massive amounts of training and dedication to your profession. You have enormous professionalism and pride in what you do."

"That's true."

"Well, the same is true for the scientific staff. Take a look at our bios some time. We're talking about graduates of Harvard, Oxford, Stanford, MIT and every other well known institution. Every one of us is a published author multiple times over. The same attributes apply.

"I think we clash because we have more in common than anyone ever thought."

The group sat quietly for a moment as if considering the doctors words when Dixon's radio crackled to life.

"_Colonel Dixon, End Zone."_ End Zone was the name Dixon had given to the personnel set up at the stargate.

"Go ahead."

"_We've got activation of the gate sir. We're set up in position."_

"Copy that. Maintain position. We're on the way."

Dixon and Harper grabbed their gear and weapons, exited the tent and ran at a good clip towards the camps entrance and headed down the dirt path leading to the central area of ruins and the gate, less than a mile away. One of the weaknesses of such a defendable position was that it was away from the gate itself, forcing Dixon to leave valuable personnel to defend and monitor it. The two men arrived in time to take in a familiar sight. A group of personnel, both military and civilian, were exiting the gate and standing off to the side.

Dixon took one look around and muttered quietly to himself.

"More work." The feeling lingered a moment and then he got down to business.

"Okay, who's in charge here?"

"Here sir."

Dixon turned and faced an Air Force major, clad in ABU's and full body armor, to include helmet and elbow and knee pads. The man looked ready for Afghanistan. It was readily apparent the he had experience with deployments. He just had the _look_.

"Major Eric Whittier, 820th Security Forces Group."

The introduction alone answered questions for Dixon. The 820th Security Forces Group was the Air Force's on-call security and infantry formation out of Moody Air Force Base, Georgia. Trained to a high degree, with a large amount of their number graduates of schools like Ranger, Airborne and the Air Force's own Counter-Sniper program, they were designed for the type of mission the SGC epitomized. Bare bases, austere locations and long hours were their specialty and they were the answer to Dixon's problems. Namely as babysitters for Dixon's current residence.

"Welcome Major. What's going on?"

"I've been directed to do a site survey for a follow-on force sir. The SGC wants to have at least two flights of SF troopers on the ground by the end of the week to pick up your security mission. I've got five others with me to do it."

"About time they let you guys get here. We were just talking about it."

Whittier cracked a slight smile. "Always glad to make colonels happy sir."

"This your first SGC deployment Major?" Dixon could just tell.

"Yes sir. I just got back from Afghanistan a few months ago and I got briefed in. The 820th just started getting involved."

"Who are the others?"

"You've got six more scientists for your scientific team. Oh, and Lieutenant Hailey."

Dixon turned and faced an impossibly short and young officer clad in ABU's and geared up as much as the SF troops, helmet and all, and carrying her own M-4 rifle. If he didn't know better, he'd think she were a kid playing soldier at Halloween. First Lieutenant Jennifer Hailey. Dixon knew the name and recognized the face. Reputed to have the sharpest scientific mind at the SGC, save for Sam Carter, she'd been recruited to the program directly from the Air Force Academy, reportedly by Carter herself, against the better judgment of SGC leadership, who'd been scared off by reports about her personality. Word had it that she didn't play well with others. That didn't fly in the corporate monster known as the United States Air Force, where nails that stood out tended to get hammered. Hard. Dixon hoped they were just rumors because he didn't need the trouble. Dixon thought he had heard she was at MIT doing work there.

"Lieutenant Jennifer Hailey reporting as ordered sir." With that came a perfect Air Force Academy salute.

"At ease. What brings you here Lieutenant? This is more of an archeology project. No black holes or solar flares here."

"Colonel Carter wants me to get out in the field sir and get a feel for Ancient technology and history, especially since we're dealing with more of it at Atlantis and elsewhere."

"Makes sense. Weren't you at MIT or something?"

"Yes sir. I just finished a semester doing grad study and working part time at Lincoln Labs and Hanscom."

It made perfect sense to Dixon. Hanscom Air Force Base, Massachusetts; otherwise known as Egghead Air Force Base or The Land of 500 Lieutenant Colonels. Located 20 minutes west of Boston, Hanscom was more office park than Air Force base. Home to Lincoln Labs, a joint Air Force/MIT research center, as well as Electronic Systems Command, it was a center for all sorts of classified research and development, some of it related to the SGC, tapping into the Boston area's vast amount of research universities and private tech companies. It was no shocker that someone like Hailey, already pegged as a rising research star, would be farmed off to such a place.

"Well, welcome to the land time forgot. The accommodations are a little Spartan but we get by. We'll drop your gear and I'll give the two of you a quick tour."

Hailey finally took in her surroundings and looked up at the remains of the massive domed structure they stood in. Sunlight shown through holes in the dome where time had taken its toll, with stone collapsing into the nave.

"Oh my God…"

"Yeah, that's probably what the Ancients thought too. You haven't seen anything yet."

The small group made its way out of the building to find themselves on a terrace overlooking stairs leading to ruins in every direction. It was a view that could take your breath away. Major Whittier was appreciative of the sight.

"Damn, that's not your everyday view."

"No, no it's not. Doctor Coombs and his team have only begun to figure the whole thing out but this was a major settlement for the Ancients with a population certainly in the thousands, maybe more. This 'Olympus' city alone will take years of work and excavation they're telling me. This is a good-sized planet and we haven't been able to get a ship here yet for detailed scans. For all we know, there could be more ruins elsewhere. I think Coombs believes there's a Nobel Prize hidden here somewhere."

"It'll take years to figure this out."

"Oh yeah. I'll be long retired and playing golf when they finish this."

Upon arriving at the camp and dropping their gear, Hailey and Whittier met up again with Dixon, who proceeded to give them the nickel tour.

"As you can see, we're a small operation. The RED HORSE team has done a great job of getting this all set up on the fly. Now it's just a matter of normalizing operations here and getting a set crew in place with normal rotations so the scientists can get to work. That's your department Major."

"You definitely picked a good spot sir. Good fields of fire, open terrain with good views. My people can make this work certainly."

"That was the idea Major. We've done some extensive surveys of the immediate area, out to 12 miles on foot and about 30 via UAV, and we've seen nothing except these ruins, which seem to be everywhere. Whatever culture was here, it was big and it's all gone. We were hoping to get the _Prometheus_ or one of the other ships in here soon. I want to be sure we're really alone on this world and not sitting in someone's version of Siberia in summer."

"I wasn't briefed on that sir, but I'll ask about it as well. My people and I are going to be operating under the assumption that we're not alone. That's why we're going to get some sensor systems, especially TASS, for the perimeter. As for the SGC, maybe if they hear it enough they'll follow through on it."

"I can only hope."

Hailey kept her thoughts to herself as she took in her surroundings, the view beyond the camp being one of majestic, low-slung hills with larger mountains in the distance. One of the first things she noticed was the most obvious: the silence. Except for the noises made in the make-shift camp, it was nothing but the rustling of the wind and the chirping of birds. It was unspoiled and unaffected by man, something certain to change. She loved it, and sensed that she'd learn a lot here, at least about how the SGC really did things on the ground and outside a lab.

She'd been begging for field work, such as it was for SGC people who specialized in physics and astronomy. Carter, her mentor and boss, had finally relented and knew that Dixon would be a good person for her to learn from. She needed this, to live outside the lab and earn some credibility among the field operators of the SGC. She knew that stories of her 'issues' at the Academy had made their way with her to the mountain and she had to kill them quick. She _had_ to.

The small group spent the next fifteen minutes walking the perimeter of the small compound while Dixon pointed out things like the SPEK kitchen, the communications tent and the sleeping quarters. It was a mundane task but like any military deployment, the small things usually meant the most.

"How are things back at the mountain Lieutenant?"

"Relatively quiet sir. The most chatter has been about Atlantis; the latest rumor is they're going to send some reinforcements out there but I haven't heard anything about whom or what would go. Apparently the President and the IOA haven't made up their mind yet."

"Shocker. While it sounds interesting, I'm not into going there. Too far away and I've got no use for hungry aliens who suck the life force out of you to eat."

"That's what a lot of people are saying sir. The sound of it is bad enough."

**Raptor 239**

Boomer smiled. "Helo, tell me more about this world." Boomer asked as she eyed the blue world in the window. "Is it everything humanity has ever dreamed it to be?"

"I'm only going off preliminary readings at the moment but…it's a lot like Caprica in many ways. Just unspoiled, pristine," Helo said.

"I get that. But tell me anyway, don't spare the details."

Helo smiled, he knew she wanted him to build a picture with his words. He was more than happy to oblige her. "Well I see a beautiful verdant world with vast seas, and continents. I see woodlands and grasslands and forests stretching as far as the eye can see. "

"Sounds beautiful, I can't wait to see it." Even on the unlikely chance that it wasn't Kobol she still wanted to see and touch this world.

"Yeah it is beautiful and to think we would be the first humans to touch this world in thousands of years. Assuming it is Kobol. But I'll tell you this; thanks to all those remote cameras on the buoys I'm able to see almost the entire surface of the planet." Helo said. Soon his smile faded as he saw something "Boomer look at this!"

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Helo shook his head "It looks like…wow look at the size of that thing!" Helo exclaimed as something caught his interest.

"What is it?" Boomer asked expectantly.

"It's some kind of crater, its frakken huge!" He worked his controls to get a better image of what he was seeing. Looking at his display board he could see it was a data linked image coming from one of their probes. He sent the image to Boomers display so she could see what he was looking at.

"What do you think caused it?" Boomer asked after a moment of stunned silence.

"It's too soon to tell, but it's big; it covers almost half of the northern continent."

Boomer suddenly straightened in her seat. "We should get pictures!"

Helo didn't respond as something grabbed his attention.

"Helo?" Boomer asked.

"Hold on, I'm picking up something." The young man began to quickly work his controls with a sense of urgency.

"What is it?" Boomer asked.

"Boomer, one of the probes is picking up a massive burst of energy in the EM spectrum."

"Something natural?" Boomer asked.

"I don't think so; strength and intensity are getting stronger by the minute."

Boomer turned wide eyed to face her companion "There's something _man made_ down there!"

Helo met her gaze with equal looks of amazements "I think so yes…now I'm picking it up on my screens!"

Boomer turned back to her own screen in shock. Sure enough she was picking up the same EM emissions that he was as their Raptor slowly moved over geosynchronous orbit of the northern continent.

"_Boomer, Racetrack. Skulls is picking up heavy EM emissions coming from the northern continent. Can you confirm?"_ Racetrack's amazed voice came over the net.

"I'm trying to triangulate the source with two of the drones, but it'll take me a few minutes!" Helo informed. Boomer could tell he was hard at work.

"Racetrack, Boomer. Helo's picking up something as well."

Helo spoke up, "Narrowing it down. I confirm it's the northern continent."

"Racetrack, Boomer. Helo confirms its coming from the northern continent!"

"_Gods, there's something down there!_" Someone said over the net. Though in Boomer's mind it sounded suspiciously like Firefly.

"_Stay to your duties we don't know what's going on!"_ Racetrack snapped over the net.

"_Boomer, Racetrack. You're closer to the source of these emissions than we are. Can you get direct readings?"_

Boomer looked back to Helo who nodded. "I've almost pinpointed it. I just need another minute."

"Racetrack, Boomer we're on it."

"_Copy Boomer, and be careful, we don't know what's down there."_ Racetrack warned.

"_I'll tell you what's down there. It's an invitation from the Lords of Kobol!"_ Firefly came over the net.

"Oh frak." Boomer mumbled.

"Tell me about it." Helo agreed with a shake of his head.

"_The Lords have lightened the way for us to follow and only those pure of spirit may enter the Promised Land!"_

"This guy's starting to sound _a little_ unhinged." Boomer noted in a worried tone of voice.

"_Don't you see it? Can't you see them calling to us?"_

It was a rarity for Colonial officers to cast aside their professionalism and lose their composure in such a manner, but the more Firefly spouted religious ranting the more concerned his fellow officers became. They had all considered this mission a simple standard survey of just another planet, in yet another uncharted region of space. No one had considered the possible ramifications of what would happen among the more faithful in the fleet _if_ they actually found Kobol. Lt. Simon Reynolds, call sign 'Firefly', was just such an individual. He was the product of parents who were both deeply religious; His father a priest from Gemenon and his mother from a conservative family on Sagittarian. So it was rather surprising to find the devout young man in the service at all; much less as a Raptor jock and not a chaplain.

Helo's instrument began beeping incessantly "Oh frak, he's turning toward the planet!"

Boomers eyes widened "Are you kidding me?"

"No!" Helo took a moment to check his boards "It's an entry vector; he's going in!"

"_Firefly, Racetrack. What the frak are you doing?"_

"Frakken nut job, whose idea was it to bring him on this mission again?" Helo swore under his breath.

"_Firefly, Racetrack, What the frak are you doing? Get back in position!"_

"I don't think he's listening." Boomer mumbled.

"_Guard Dog One, Racetrack. Can you intercept?"_

"_Racetrack, Guard Dog One. No joy, he's too far away!"_

"We have no idea what could be down there!" Helo swore "It could be a Cylon ambush for all we know!"

"_Racetrack, Guard Dog One, request permission to engage?"_

"_You want to shoot down one of our own as if they were frakken Cylons!_ Racetrack responded hotly. _"Negative, I say again, negative. Do not engage!"_

"Looks like we're gonna have to stop him ourselves!' Boomer said tightly. She flipped the Raptor end over end with the ships RCS thrusters and then gunned the main thrusters to full burn.

"What are you doing, Boomer?" Helo asked.

"I know where he's going and I think we can intercept him just as he hits the atmosphere."

Helo double checked her course and that of their wayward Raptor and grimaced "It's gonna be close Boomer."

"Well it's either this or we let him put all our lives in jeopardy."

"_Boomer, Racetrack what are you doing?"_

"I'm going in, I'm gonna try and catch him before he hits the atmosphere and block his path."

"_You're frakking insane, Boomer!"_

Boomer ignored her and brought their Raptor up to full burn to intercept Firefly, she came in on an oblique angle in the hopes of cutting him off before he hit the atmosphere. It was close, too close, far too close to call if she would make it in time but she couldn't stop now, she was committed. For several tense moments she only focused on her boards with the occasional glance out her window to view things with the good 'ole Mark 1 Eyeball as their two Raptors inexorably drew closer. As they continued their dives the heat and friction grew steadily worse as they entered the upper atmosphere. The brightness from their re-entry forced her to polarize her visor in order to see without being blinded.

She could make him out now just as their Raptor really started to glow from the friction of the atmosphere. But as they closed in on their fellow Raptor Boomer noticed the bird was not flying straight but was in fact bouncing around in an almost drunken fashion; which was incredibly dangerous when conducting re-entry maneuvers.

"_Boomer...Ra zzz…Boom ...resp…zzz...ca…..me…zz"_ The radio crackled and then went silent.

"We're hitting the atmosphere, we're losing comms!" Helo warned.

"What the frak is he doing over there?" Boomer wondered as she checked her readouts and noticed the Raptor wasn't in a perfect dive.

"It's hard to imagine his ECO going along with it. Crashdown isn't exactly religious and I doubt he wants to face the Old Man's wrath for this."

They were almost neck and neck now; both Raptors fighting for the prime positions of lead and both were evenly matched in velocity. Boomer decided to make a risky gamble and pushed the Raptor for all it was worth. Their Raptors closed to within a few short kilometers of each other and Boomer poured on the speed to almost dangerous levels for someone who had no intention of entering the atmosphere but her little gamble worked.

She pulled out ahead of her target, mere feet apart from a collision as she blew past him and did her best to become an obstacle in his path. No matter which way he maneuvered Boomer was always there to meet him, always firmly in his way never giving an inch, never falling for his feints. Finally the pilot seemed to give up the game from his determined goal keeper and started climbing for altitude and space. Boomer did the same. But instead of bleeding off speed she simply began to pull out of her dive at full thrust.

Pulling back on the throttle Boomer climbed for altitude and orbit. She could feel the crushing weight of gravity pressing down on her. Her vision became blurry and her head felt light but she continued to pull back on the throttle and climb. Boomer at once focused on her breathing as her training kicked in. Like all Colonial pilots she had been trained to use diaphragm exercises and heavy breathing to keep blood flow to the brain. It saved her life as it prevented her from blacking out and plummeting the Raptor into the planet's surface like a fallen meteor.

As the Raptor broke from the atmosphere she could feel the crushing weight of gravity easing off of her and she breathed a sigh of relief. They had done it.

**PXG-147**

Soon enough Dixon, Whittier and Hailey had finished walking the perimeter and found their way back among ruins near the dome housing the gate. Each was silent as they looked over the ancient stone and the questions it produced. Hailey had a sneaking suspicion the SGC had just stepped into a deep hole; she couldn't explain it but she certainly felt it.

Major Whittier just shook his head. "Imagine how much work they put in here."

"Does get you thinking." Dixon turned to see Hailey cocking her head to one side and looking to the sky.

"Something wrong Hailey?"

"Did you hear something in the distance sir?"

"No. What'd you hear?"

"I'd swear I heard a low crack in the distance, like a sonic boom. Neither of you heard it sirs?"

Whittier shook his head. "No, I didn't hear a thing."

Dixon looked back at Hailey. "We did have a squall pass through the valley yesterday but we didn't hear any thunder." Dixon looked up at the sun-drenched sky. "And I don't think we'd have that now."

Hailey shrugged it off. "Well, it was barely faint if I heard anything. It was probably an echo from the engineers working in the camp."

**Raptor 239**

"_Boomer, Racetrack, Come in! Can you hear me? Respond!"_

"Racetrack, Boomer, we're okay over here." Boomer breathed heavily.

"_Gods, your frakken insane you know that!What were you thinking!...You know…I don't want to know. Form up and let's get out of here, I've had enough excitement for one day."_

"Copy that." Boomer acknowledged. She reduced her speed to a more leisurely pace as she brought her Raptor around to link-up with her fellow Raptors.

"You okay back there?" Boomer asked in concern.

"Perfect!" Helo responded quickly. "Nice flying. Really good flying back there," He praised.

Boomer smiled at the compliment and was about to respond when her eyes went wide as a thought occurred to her. She did a quick check of her instruments and nearly squealed with glee. According to her DRADIS they would soon be right on top of the sight of the strange anomaly. It was a perfect opportunity.

"Helo quickly; tell me you have that camera up and running!"

"It's up", Helo confirmed.

"Guess what spot we're about to pass over?" Boomer smiled.

Helo checked his instruments and smiled. "What do you say we take a few lovely snapshots and see what's down there?" He brought up the camera and with focused, calm professionalism he began snapping pictures, lots and _lots_ of pictures; as many as he could from every angle he could think of. As the camera processed the pictures and stored them he began flickering through them to get an idea of what he was looking at. His heart threatened to leap out of his throat at what he saw.

"You found something?" Boomer asked in sheer excitement.

"See for yourself!" Helo replied and with a flick of a few buttons he sent the images her way. Boomer studied each one intently and gasped in amazement at what she saw as a sense of vindication washed over her.

With the hint of a predatory smile on her face Boomer keyed on the squadron frequency "Hey Racetrack?" Boomer said smugly. "Remember when we said double or nothing? _I_ win."


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Kobol Expedition**

**Day 47**

**Sector 728**

The light of the distant yellow-tinged star washed the frontiers of its star system, the scattered swarms of comets and asteroids, and snowball proto-planets of mostly solid methane and ammonia that the distant gravitational arms of the local sun had never gathered into actual worlds. A poet once called such things the Reefs of Space. Here, the local sun was just a bright star among unblinking stars in the black void of space. Its yellow tinge made it a rarity of rarities among the stars of this sector of the galaxy.

At the edge of this star system's reefs of space, individual flashes of blue-white light and Cherenkov radiation appeared, and the Kobol Expeditionary Fleet appeared out of the FTL jumps. As soon as the battlestars' flight pods were extended, Raptors were launched from the _Galactica_ and the _Perseus_ and jumped away on their mission to scout the neighboring star systems to find deposits of tylium. But not the family of planets watched over by the bright lonely yellow star. One of the Raptors launched from the _Galactica_, however, did not jump. The flame-blue glow of its ion engines brightened as it made its way toward one of the civilian ships in the fleet.

_**Celestra**_

**Expedition Science Ship**

**Caprican Registry**

The Raptor docked into the _Celestra_'s small hangar bay set into the ship's hammerhead bow. The bay doors slid shut and the bay pressurized quickly. Once the pressurization board showed the green light, the Raptor's door opened. Felix Gaeta climbed out with a black bag in his hand and looked around at the two shuttles in the bay and made his way to the hatch leading into the _Celestra_ proper.

The hatch's wheel spun and its hermetic seal was broken as it opened. Silver-haired Captain Kronus stood behind it.

Gaeta saluted. Strictly speaking, he didn't have to do that to a civilian ship commander but Paul Kronus was a retired admiral of the Colonial Fleet and had distinguished himself at the Battle of Cosmora Archipelago during the war sparked by the Cylon Rebellion in which he commanded the Fourth Fleet from the Battlestar _Rycon_. He thwarted a major Cylon offensive in a pyrrhic victory in which the _Rycon_ had to be scuttled. Despite this, he received the Distinguished Service Medallion from the newly formed Colonial Admiralty and the Star of Kobol from the equally newly formed Quorum of Twelve. In Gaeta's opinion, such a man still merited the respect due an admiral and a war hero even if he had to wonder why such a decorated career military officer would retire only to command a civilian vessel.

Kronus waved the salute away dismissively as if he was slightly annoyed, but Gaeta could tell by the old man's eyes that he was flattered. He started walking down the corridor, Gaeta following. The corridors in the _Celestra_ were smaller than those on the Galactica and consequently felt more cramped. "When I was told that the _Galactica_'s communications officer was coming here, I had to see for myself. If there's a message, you could have sent it by wireless. Unless it's important and couldn't be sent over the wireless."

Gaeta wanted to laugh but he respected Kronus too much to do that. It was clear that Kronus was capable of shrewd thinking, something that might be required to survive in the Admiralty. "No, sir. This is a personal visit."

Which was not entirely true, but Gaeta was under orders.

Kronus glanced at the young ensign sideways. "So it's not your shift now and you decided to spend your free time on our humble ship full of scientists?"

"Yes, sir."

The commander stopped at a T-junction and faced Gaeta. "You're visiting that Baltar?"

A grin appeared on Gaeta's face before it was quickly wiped away for the sake of professionalism. "No, sir. Wouldn't think of it, sir."

The old man appraised Gaeta with pursed lips. After a while, he nodded once, his face carefully devoid of any expression. He turned down another corridor, leaving Gaeta alone.

Gaeta found himself liking the old war hero.

Gaeta found the hatch he was looking for. He knocked on it. Soon, the straight handle turned down and the hatch clicked open. Anthem's head popped out and he seemed surprised to see Gaeta.

"Come in."

Gaeta stepped over the high threshold and saw that Anthem was shirtless. It was clear that he had muscle, the kind that was not built for show. There was a light smattering of crisp black hair on the chest and abdomen, and a silver ring pierced the left nipple. The silver contrasted with the brown skin. Before he could notice anything more, Anthem turned around and went to put on a shirt. Gaeta looked around. The bunk was kept neat but the table and dresser top were overflowing with papers and books. Soft piano music played. A computer awaited Anthem on the table.

Anthem now wore a shirt. Gaeta saw that the shirt was a Festivus souvenir. Gaeta mentally smiled. Festivus was a week-long celebration annually held in the Colonies. It consisted of dancing, fireworks, colorful lights and decorations, lots of eating and drinking and partaking of drugs, lots of nudity, impossible fantasy costumes, and many parades. Most people wore masks many of which were fantastical and provided anonymity in sexual escapades and orgies. Very often, they wore the masks and nothing else. It was a time when the rich and poor mingled anonymously in which a farmer could be copulating with a siress in public with no one the wiser. Children born to those who did not use contraceptives were treated as the spouse's own even if he was not the biological father. Many college students naturally planned their Vernal Break to at least partially coincide with Festivus.

"Nice music."

"Thanks. It's a recording of Dreilide Thrace when he played in the Helice Opera House at Caprica City."

"Thrace?" Gaeta's brow puckered. "Any relation to Starbuck? I mean, Lieutenant Kara Thrace?"

Anthem shrugged. "No idea."

Gaeta saw that a color photo filled the computer screen, showing inscriptions of blocky symbols on a wooden sculpture. The sculpture looked odd with a face that had huge slanted almond eyes, a double-arched open mouth and interweaving designs in the edges.

"It's a Kobolian artifact," said Anthem by way of explanation. "I've been translating and familiarizing myself with Proto-Kobolese. You'd never see it. It was destroyed in the Cylon War."

Gaeta grimaced sympathically. Beside killing billions of people, the war also killed much of Colonial history as the rebelling Cylons sought to destroy the cities of the Colonies.

There was an awkward pause.

The Galactica communications officer decided to fill up the pause. "You know, it's the first time I've been in here."

"You're welcome" was the noncommittal answer.

Gaeta glared. "Anthem, I know we had something. I felt it when you first came aboard the _Galactica_. But since then, you've pulled away."

Anthem contemplated Gaeta with mental reservation. Finally: "You're military."

That answer only inspired confusion. "What in Hades does that mean?"

"When I left home on Tauron, I spent my teen years in Queenstown. Picon City to Capricans. Fleet Town to the military."

"And…?"

Anthem was silent again, studying the other man's face. He sighed and said, "After Tauron, I was poor. Uncle Phelan introduced me to the…seedier side of Picon. I fought. I pickpocketed. I picked locks. I stole. I took drugs. When my family found out and disowned Phelan, he was forced to flee. I had to get by on my own so I…sold myself. I was underage."

Gaeta stared.

"Many clients were rich tourists. Many were the military on shore leave."

That made sense to Gaeta. Picon City was nicknamed Fleet Town because the city was the main destination of military shore leaves. Not too surprising considering its hedonistic ways and proximity to the Picon Fleet Headquarters. Not for nothing was Picon known for its harbors. Anthem was still speaking:

"Generally, it seems to me the military clients were sicker and crueler. Oh, the civilians were plenty sick but I think the military training honed the sickness and the assignments they got twisted them somehow. Rapes, beatings." Anthem shrugged as if it was all in the past. "Once, I was paid to watch as a scumbag had four of his fingers ripped off. Not cut or sliced, but twisted. The fingers had been rotated around and round until the tendons and bones finally snapped."

"Gods…."

Anthem shrugged again. "It was an education in the human psyche for me. Finally a rich man hired me. At first, he was just someone to squeeze money out of. He paid me to tell him about myself. He wanted to write a story. He took pity on me and brought me to Aquaria. Galatea was almost as hedonistic as Picon City but it was much more regulated and I was finally out of that cesspool. He put me into Caprica University where I got my degrees in history, archaeology and anthropology. So now here I am, a professor at Delphi University and an archaeo-anthropologist."

"I'm…sorry." Gaeta knew that sounded lame but he didn't know what else to say.

"Don't be. It made me the man I am today. The experience is why whenever anyone tries to use sex to ensnare me, I can see right through it because I was one of them when I was young. It's why I can deal with the likes of Captain Tyler and his crew on the _Orion_."

"What about your family? Couldn't they do anything at the time?" Gaeta knew that the Ataiuns, a Tauron aristocratic family, were very wealthy and powerful. They owned Actaeon Company, majority shares in Akamai Corporation and other mega-corporations. The family sigil, the Stag, was familiar throughout the Colonies via such corporations and their products.

"Please. They were frakked up. You know those rumors about the Ataiuns, about their involvement with Andreas Phaulkon, the Heraclitus and the Ha'la'tha before the Cylon War? They're true. Mostly." Anthem looked down. "Maybe I'm exaggerating, but the point is yes, they had connections. House Ataiun played both sides, the Heracs and the Ha'la'tha. A very dangerous game, as you can imagine."

Gaeta's lips tightened. Sounded like a frakked up family, but he didn't say that. It wasn't his place. Andreas Phaulkon was called the playboy dictator of Tauron and he used tanks to crush revolts by farmers. The Heraclitus was a faction that dominated the Tauron government in the First Tauron Civil War. They massacred the Agrarians, or dirt-eaters as they called them. The stories of torture, murders and mass graves still shamed modern Caprica because they supported the antebellum government against the Agrarian rebels.

A damned tragedy.

"That's probably why my parents, Sire Asterion and Siress Medea, were the way they were. My grandfather, Sire Cleon, certainly made sure of it. The Heracs, the Ha'la'tha, and all that. Of course, House Ataiun is not involved anymore." Anthem laughed mirthlessly as if he didn't think much of that.

Gaeta wondered if that scandal involving the deaths of Asterion, Medea and their daughter was what made Anthem leave Tauron. He had heard rumors that if Anthem had returned home upon the deaths of Asterion and Medea, he'd be the Sire of House Ataiun and CEO of Actaeon and Akamai instead of his cousin, Tassilo.

He would ask Anthem about that. But not now.

"Whatever the military did to you, that's not me." He held up the black bag he was holding, opened it and pulled out a bottle of ambrosia and a bottle of Leonis sparkling wine. "These are my peace offerings. Felix Gaeta the Man likes you. Felix Gaeta the Soldier is not here."

Anthem softened and smiled. He gestured to the bunk and its side table as he retrieved two glasses from a cabinet. "You know, the closest I've ever been to the military is watching the Armament Day parades." He gestured at the tiny porthole through which they could see some of the ships of the expeditionary fleet, including a Gunstar and an Escortstar. "And now here I am, in the thick of it."

Gaeta was silent for a moment as he sat on the bunk beside Anthem. Only a moment, for duty called. "Speaking of that. We're here."

Puzzlement crossed Anthem's face. "Here?"

Gaeta's look became meaningful.

A wondering whisper escaped Anthem's lips: _"Kobol!"_

"It's not confirmed but the third planet in this star system is habitable. There are ruins on its surface. Could be someplace else but the directions you gave us from the ancient star map…it couldn't be anything else."

"We're in the Phos System? Truly?"

"Well, we're at the edge. Commander Adama wants you on the _Galactica_ for a discussion about it."

Anthem was incredulous. "What's there to discuss? It's Kobol! Let's go there. Jump!"

Gaeta hesitated. "Well, our scouts found something there. That's what the commander wants to discuss in a conference. After this, I'm calling Baltar and we're going to the Raptor in the shuttle bay."

Anthem grimaced. Baltar….

The communications officer understood and he showed it in a smile. "The conference's not for an hour. The ships captains need to be briefed first and the people essential to the meeting need to be called to the _Galactica_." Gaeta popped the cork off of the Leonis sparkling wine. "Now, how about we celebrate your discovery of humanity's mother-world?"

The archaeo-anthropologist grinned and thrust his glass to the open bottle. "Why not? To Kobol!"

"To Kobol!" Gaeta clinked his glass against Anthem's. "And to us."

The grin brightened into a smile. This was going to be interesting for Anthem.

Elsewhere on the _Celestra_….

"Yes. Yes. Gaius. Ahh, Gaius…ahhh…Gaius…."

"Oooh," Gaius Baltar moaned. He grabbed his partner's blonde hair as he breathed hard.

"Come on. Don't stop. Don't stop. Come on!" Painted fingernails raked down Baltar's back, leaving long red ragged lines in the skin. He wasn't aware of them.

Baltar grimaced and groaned loudly and fell back onto the bed, gasping for breath. The blonde soon fell over to the bed as well.

"Oh, frak," breathed Baltar.

The woman got up on an elbow and smirked. "Gaius Frakking Baltar, don't tell me this is still great for you even after all this time."

The young scientist with long wavy hair barked a laugh as he looked at the woman who, unknown to him, was an enemy honey trap. "Of course it is. It'd be better if we had something like the _Zephyr_ or _Cloud Nine_ than this…tub of a science ship!"

The woman known as Number Six among her brethren frowned. "This is not a pleasure cruise, despite…" She caressed the hair on Baltar's chest. "…this."

"I am three times a Magnate Prize winner. I am close to the President. I am the director of the Command Navigation Program. They should have given me the _Zephyr_ when I asked for it!"

As he was speaking, Six's hand was tracing a meandering trail down Baltar's still-heaving and sweaty torso. The hand plunged down and grabbed his balls. Hard.

Gasping in surprise and pain, he said, "Easy there! They're tender, especially now."

Tender sweetness was gone from Six's face. She fiercely said, "Focus, Gaius. Focus! Kobol is out there. God wants us to have it."

Baltar rolled his eyes. "Oh not that again…." He grimaced again, this time in pain as Six squeezed.

"Do not mock my faith, Gaius." Six was suddenly sweet again as she released him. "I hear that there's people at Kobol."

"People? Wha..? How'd you know?"

A corner of the blonde's mouth lifted in a half smile. "I have my little ways. Just like I have ways with you. The swirl and the twist, for example."

A mischievous glint came into Baltar's eyes as he reached over to Six's triangle of sticky wet pubic hair. "I thought you want me to focus? Or is this the type of focus you want?"

She slapped his hand away with a snarl but her eyes conveyed amusement. "This is important, Gaius."

"Yes. Kobol. Important. But people? I thought everyone left Kobol?"

"They did. They forsook God and God banished them from paradise."

"Here, I've always thought it's the Lords of Kobol all along," deadpanned Baltar.

"The gods are false idols who've led the people astray." Six sat up. "The people at Kobol are violating God's ban on entering paradise. We can't do the same thing, Gaius. We'd bring God's wrath upon us. Gaius, you could die there."

"If it's forbidden to go there, where are God's servants with flaming swords?" Baltar waved away the question before Six could admonish him for mocking her faith again. "But who are these people?"

"They're not us."

Baltar stared. The way the blonde said it made her sound like she knew it to be absolutely true. "Darling, you seem to know more than I do. What's going on?"

"We must not go to Kobol. God commands it. I know you don't believe, but this is important to me." She caressed Baltar's neck and tried to encircle it with her hand. "I want you alive." That caused Baltar to tense up.

"What's wrong, Gaius?"

"I…uh…I had a dream about you."

Baltar remembered the last dream. In it, the blonde was straddling him on a couch at the beach. She was asking him to use the pleasure to forget the pain. What pain? He didn't know. As she was riding him, she grasped his neck and gently squeezed. Baltar thought this was an attempt at pleasurable asphyxiation which was supposed to enhance orgasms. Instead, she snapped his neck and asked, "Are you alive?"

That was…disconcerting to say the least. He wasn't about to go into the details with the blonde woman in bed beside him. "Well, I've been seeing you in dreams a lot lately."

Six looked into Baltar's eyes, showing no expression on her face. "I'm not surprised, Gaius." She stood up from the bed. "You better get used to it."

That was…an unusual response, to say the least. He watched her stride to a cabinet. She took out a wine bottle and opened it to pour into two wine glasses. "I…don't understand."

Six sighed and turned to face Baltar, holding the wine bottle. "Life has a melody, Gaius. A rhythm of notes that become your existence once played in harmony with God's plan. It's time to do your part and realize your destiny."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"In your Sacred Scrolls, Zeus said that any return to Kobol will exact a price in blood. There's a reason God banished the tribes from Kobol. Do not anger Him or we'll reap the whirlwind." Upon seeing Baltar's skeptical look, she sighed and added, "Let me put this in words that you can believe in: go to Kobol and you will die."

Again, Baltar stared at Six, the wheels in his brains turning. "You seem to know things that I don't know."

She chuckled as she sipped her wine. "Isn't that what women are for?"

"No, no, it's more than that. It's as if you have little birdies finding things out for you. It's eerie, really. First, you tell me about getting on this expedition to Kobol. Then you tell me about people who are not us on Kobol before I ever hear about it. Wha—?"

Six chuckled again. "Don't tell me you're a conspiracy theorist, Gaius."

"No, no, it's just that—"

The Cylon agent, as she reached for Baltar's wine glass, intentionally knocked the wine bottle from the cabinet table. It fell and shattered on the deck.

"Oh!"

Baltar rushed from the bed, grabbing a towel to dab at the wine pooling on the deck. "Don't worry about it. I'll put it on Mini-Def's expense account, as usual." He grinned. "That's one of the many perks of my position, you know."

Six smiled, glad that Baltar has lost his train of thought. "I know." She pulled him up from his squatting position and gently pushed him toward the bed. "You are one of _my_ many perks."

Baltar's eyebrows rose. "Again? I don't know if I can…."

Six picked up a tiny plastic box from the bedside table and snapped it open to reveal tiny diamond-shaped blue pills. Baltar instantly recognized them and reached out for one.

"Vinagro? Okay, sure."

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

The hatch into the _Galactica_'s War Room opened and Commander Adama looked up.

"Glad you could make it."

Doctors Anthem Cyrus and Gaius Baltar were ushered through the hatchway by Felix Gaeta. Baltar was frowning at Gaeta who was looking slightly satisfied with himself. Adama guessed that Gaeta had put off summoning Baltar to the last minute, thus causing an inconvenience of some type to the official head scientist of the expedition. The commander mentally smiled to himself.

Dr. Cyrus, carrying a thick leather-bound book under an arm, was looking around the War Room to take in the displays. The wall screens projected images of the Phos System and of the planet Kobol. The large electronic map table was displaying various orbital and aerial photos of the surface of Kobol.

"Is that Kobol?"

Adama nodded, looking stern. "It's not confirmed but according to your notes, Dr. Cyrus, the planet should be Kobol. Our scouts report that it appears to have suffered some kind of calamity in the past but it is inhabitable." He touched an image and slid it across the electronic map table to highlight it. "The aerial survey shows evidence of at least one city on the surface."

Baltar gave the image a close look. "How old are the ruins?"

Cyrus was also studying the aerial photo of the ruined city. "Judging by the plant overgrowth and the state of the ruins in this picture, I'd give an initial estimate of approximately two thousand years." He looked up meaningfully.

Gaeta caught the meaning. "That's around the time that the twelve tribes left Kobol."

Cyrus nodded slowly. "This planet is Kobol…birthplace of mankind, where the gods and men lived in paradise until the exodus of the thirteen tribes." He looked around at the wall images and paused at the photo of the map that he found in the Galleon Stone back on Caprica that gave the expedition the route back to Kobol. He then looked down at the thick leather-bound book he brought over from the _Celestra_. Adama guessed that it was the Sacred Scrolls. The archaeo-anthropologist added, "It's real. The scriptures, the myth, the prophecies. They're all real."

"So say we all," agreed Gaeta.

Adama said to Baltar, "Well, doc? What's your opinion about this?"

Baltar was looking pensively at the images of the Kobolian surface.

"Doc? Doc?" prodded Gaeta.

Baltar was still looking down at the table images.

A small amount of annoyance escaped Adama's controlled face. "Doctor Baltar, did you hear me?"

"I did hear you, Commander. I just don't respond to the title 'Doc.' A 'dock' is a platform for loading and unloading material. My title is 'doctor,' if you don't mind."

Adama's eyes sharpened into a glare that was unmuted by his spectacles. Baltar slightly but visibly wilted under the glare.

Cyrus took the initiative. "We must organize a ground survey team. We must make a complete survey of the ruins immediately."

Adama said, "There is a complication, Doctor." With that, he tapped the edge of a small image in the table, causing it to expand. In it were what appeared to be the top of tents, equipment and dots suggesting people.

"Is…that a camp?" Cyrus looked up. "I thought we haven't jumped to Kobol orbit and sent people there yet."

"It's not our people."

Baltar's eyes widened as he remembered the warning by his blonde girlfriend. _Go to Kobol and you will die._ He also remembered Six saying that there were people on Kobol and that 'they were not us.' "They're not us."

"I'm sorry?"

Baltar pointed at the aerial photo as he repeated, "They're not us."

Adama looked over his spectacle dubiously. "I believe that's what I said, Doctor."

Cyrus had thunderheads in his eyes. "Looters. Tomb raiders. Thieves!" He turned to Commander Adama. "We must stop them. Looters and grave robbers are the bane of Colonial history. They create unnecessary gaps in the knowledge of our heritage. Even if anyone doesn't care about that, the sale of ancient artifacts would fetch huge prices in the underground market. Anyone would become filthy rich selling Kobolian artifacts in the Colonies. Just think of the fortunes given to criminals and terrorists at home!"

Adama nodded slowly, troubled by that thought. Shady characters could indeed get rich from priceless artifacts and finance piracy and terrorist attacks. The Colonies would have nightmares of the Sagittaron Freedom Movement, the Children of Erebus terrorists, the Beta Pirates and other such organizations getting the finances to mount large scale attacks, like the one upon a government building on Sagittaron for which the terrorist Tom Zarek was responsible and incarcerated in the Luna 3 Cold Hell prison facility.

"As the fleet commander, it's my responsibility to know my options and to know the reasons behind the orders that I give. I will need to brief the ship captains and the teams we will send to Kobol. You are the experts, doctors. Dr. Cyrus, your recommendation is to go down and stop them?"

"Yes!" Anthem slammed the table with a fist to emphasize his answer.

"Actually…," interposed Baltar.

Adama arched an eyebrow to indicate that the scientist should elaborate.

Baltar cleared his throat. "Who could have sent these people all the way to Kobol, if indeed this planet is Kobol? Who has the logistics to send this many people, this much equipment to this planet?"

"I have several suspects in mind," growled Cyrus.

"Naturally," deadpanned Baltar. "As I was saying, only a government, either planetary or federal, could launch such an expedition to this planet. As we know, none of the planetary governments back home has done it. Only the federal government has done it, as witness our own expedition." He took a deep breath as he thought of his girlfriend's warning. "So it stands to reason that the people on this planet come from a world outside the Twelve Colonies."

"Aliens?" scoffed Cyrus. "Everybody knows this galaxy is a barren and desolate place. The odds of habitable worlds developing anywhere are astronomical. The worlds in the Cyrannus Cluster are a freak of nature that the credible could only attribute to acts of the gods themselves. And there's the fact that Phos, the sun of Kobol, appears to be the only yellow-type star in this sector so the odds of Kobol and humanity developing must be astronomical too."

"But that doesn't mean humans have not settled other worlds than the Twelve Colonies," countered Baltar.

"Oh, you mean the Thirteenth Colony? Earth? Until facts tell us otherwise, it's a myth!"

"C-certainly, I'm not speaking of that mythical Colony. During the Exodus from Kobol, several of the ships of the tribes must have diverted to other star systems and settled rather than continuing on to Cyrannus. Surely, you must have encountered stories of other such settled worlds?"

A thoughtful look came over Cyrus. "Well, there are such stories of splinter settlements. Rumors, really. For instance, before the Cylon Rebellion, outcasts from Scorpia left the Cluster to settle a world rumored to be named Antila or Attila. Again, rumors claim that world to be in the Omega Sector. As we know, we can't investigate the veracity of that claim."

Baltar, Adama and Gaeta nodded. The way to the Omega Sector was now blocked by the Armistice Line separating Cylon space from Colonial claimed space. Cyrus continued to speak.

"There were sightings of supposed alien craft among the Colonies before the Cylon Rebellion. The various air forces have investigated them and discovered real explanations or dismissed them as frauds." Cyrus smiled. "Of course, that didn't stop the reports of such sightings to continue. The stereotype is that these reports are the ravings of drunk Aerilon farmers."

Adama thought he spotted a hint of an offended expression in Baltar's face but he dismissed it because what could Aerilon have anything to do with Baltar?

"Any other…'rumors'?" wondered Baltar with a hint of a sneer.

"I could ramble off a list of these rumors, like Borallus or Borella, and Equellus. Let's stick to the facts, Dr. Baltar. Facts like our science and mining outposts at Arcta, Orion and Proteus outside the Cluster, not to mention the failed kobolforming project at Pallas back home and the splinter colony on the moon Hibernia around Virgon where the Celtans settled after opposing Virgon rule centuries ago. Until we find out otherwise, Doctor, settled worlds outside our sphere of influence are not a fact."

Adama and Gaeta could see Baltar grinding his teeth. "Okay, Dr. Cyrus, who do you propose to be behind this illegal operation on Kobol? Cylons?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "Now it's Cylons, not aliens or non-Colonial human worlds?" He sighed as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Sometimes I wonder why you won those Magnate Prizes." Before Baltar could form a retort, Cyrus went on to answer his question. "Governments are not the only people with the vast resources to pull off operations like this. Like House Ataiun, for instance."

Adama's eyebrows rose. "Ataiun? Isn't that…"

Cyrus interrupted before Adama could mention his family connection. "Yes, that Tauron family. I know them. The family patriarch, Tassilo, is a shady character, believe me. The Ataiuns used to have connections with the Heracs and the Ha'la'tha."

Adama darkened at the mention of the Ha'la'tha. The others in the War Room did not know the reason for that.

"Wealthy people have a taste for the unattainable. What is more unattainable than the rarest of artifacts? What is rarer than artifacts from Kobol? Add to that fact that a wealthy and powerful man like Tassilo tends to have debts to pay, the kind of debts they'd prefer the government and the legal community not to know. One single intact artifact straight from Kobol could make a man rich enough to buy a small moon or a small fleet of ships. Because of all that, Kobol would be an extremely attractive target. I don't know how, but someone must have figured out Kobol's location. I strongly suspect Tassilo to be the benefactor of this illegal operation."

"Why?"

"Commander Adama, for an illegal operation like this, it'd take a ship or three stocked up to their gills. With the right connections and money, these ships could slip past the government's notice beyond the Cluster. Only one ship may be needed to pick up the loot. I believe there's such a ship in our own fleet: the _Orion_."

"The _Orion_? I remember you telling us something about that ship."

"Yes, Commander. Shady characters, the lot. The _Orion_'s crew takes missions that are illegal, such as smuggling and theft. The ship's owners, Arvin Tyler and his ex-wife Sora Tyler, are known to Tassilo. I was honestly surprised when I heard that the _Orion_ is part of our expedition to Kobol. The only conclusion I could draw, Commander Adama, is that the _Orion_'s benefactor is Tassilo Ataiun even though it has been contracted by the government and the Admiralty. Tassilo has a lot of pull with the government and the military. Therefore, the _Orion_ is the illegal operation's pickup ship."

Adama's eyes switched between Baltar and Cyrus, weighing their arguments.

Cyrus added, "The people on the planet are criminals. We must stop them before they create irreparable losses for our heritage."

Baltar, remembering his girlfriend's warning, threw in, "They are not our people. Remember, Commander, what the Sacred Scrolls say about Kobol: 'And Zeus warned the leaders of the twelve tribes that any return to Kobol would exact a price in blood.' This is Kobol, the land of the gods. Do not make us pay the price in blood."

The _Galactica_'s commander's back stiffened. It was exactly the wrong thing to say to Adama. "Doctors, these stories, about Kobol, the gods, and everything, they're just stories, legends, myths. Don't let it blind you to the reality we face." Adama took off his spectacles and folded them as he gazed down at the photos in the electronic table. Paramount in his mind was the Cylons detected on that tylium asteroid and an apparent Cylon fleet shadowing the expedition to Kobol. As a military officer, he'd cut his losses and go back to the Colonies. But if he did that, the Cylons would have Kobol for themselves and that would be a major political embarrassment for the Colonies, as if this illegal operation wasn't enough to embarrass them. Politics! As exciting as war, definitely as dangerous. Though in war, you get killed only once, while in politics, it can happen over and over. Adama intended to stand and not let that happen to him.

For now, the ships captains and the military personnel needed to know what to do. He glanced at Gaeta who was faithfully awaiting his commands.

Commander William Adama of the Battlestar _Galactica_, BSG-75, born to Joseph and Evelyn Adama in Caprica City and raised in Qualai, a small Caprican coastal community, made his decision.

**Marinestar **_**Heroic**_

"Attention on deck!" a voice at the back of the room boomed and as one the assembled Marines, both officer and enlisted within the stateroom, snapped to ramrod straight attention.

Colonel Lionel Carthan strode briskly and with purpose down the aisle toward the center dais overlooking the stateroom with the projector screen behind it. "As you were." He waved his officers and enlisted personnel down as he stood behind the center podium. As his people retook their seats he straightened some folders in his hand then looked over the assembled crowd briefly before he cleared his throat and pressed a button on a remote controlling the projector off to the right and behind him. At once a two dimensional picture, clearly taken from overhead, centered on a series of white prefabricated structures and other man-made accoutrements near a set of ruins. All of the assembled personnel held their breath in anticipation.

Carthan looked around the room, and though he hid it well, he took immense pride in his men and woman. Like most units in the Colonial Marine Corps, the Fifth Marine Strike Force was the product of an intense and calculated training regimen that produced an aggressive and technically proficient group. Few transferred out except through promotion or separation. Many Marines would spend years in this unit, which built an esprit de corps that few could match. Carthan's officers knew their men down to their individual tendencies and weaknesses; NCO's knew who needed pushing and who were self-motivated. All this training and cohesion made them a machine, one with one purpose: defeat all comers.

A Marine Strike Force was a team, built to operate together with an intimate knowledge of all skill sets. The crews of the armored vehicles knew the tendencies and tactics of the infantry companies just as the engineers knew what the armored crews expected to do. With infantry, light armor, Vipers, Raptor gunships, engineers and other myriad specialties, the MSF was more an instrument than just a unit. They were good, very good.

"I'll get straight to the point," Colonel Carthan began without preamble. "We've been given a mission to secure an objective on the Home of the Gods. And the Marines of Third Battalion, Fifth MSF will be the first boots on the ground to do it." He turned to the projector, "What you're seeing here are a small cluster of structures established on Kobol by an as yet unknown party for purposes also as yet unknown. Orders from the fleet commander are that we are to secure this facility with minimal loss of life. And find out why they're there."

A few officers traded looks at that statement. People on Kobol? And not from the expedition? What. The. Frak!

"As I said we don't know who they are but they've set up camp in this open field here; near as what we can tell they're the strongest concentration of ancient ruins in the City of the Gods. We're operating on the assumption they're non-indigenous."

If that first statement had them curious _this_ statement had them suspicious. Some of them were already forming their own ideas who was down there and what they were doing. Yet despite knowing this none of them spoke up and kept their own thoughts to themselves.

Carthan continued, "We'll be going in hot and fast; a Raptor assault spearheaded by Alpha Company will land at these points here…" Carthan selected two points on the west side of the base camp. "Beta Company will land and secure a landing zone four clicks east of the base camp where one of the Taurus assault ships will land and deploy Daggit Troop for landram support." Colonel Carthan turned back to his company commanders. "Constellation and Echo companies will land to the north and east of Alpha. They will reinforce Alpha's position and will help tighten the noose and plug any gaps in the perimeter. Headquarters Company will establish CAS EVAC points and RETRANS sites for surface to ship communications while the mortar platoons deploy their teams for indirect fire support." Carthan turned back to the screen and flicked a button on his remote and a new image was displayed of the base camp and the surrounding area. "You'll have air support should you need it."

"_Galactica_ will set up a combat air patrol to secure local airspace. On the off chance the enemy does have any form of air support they'll deal with it. You'll also have close air support in the form of Raptor gunships and our Vipers to help suppress the enemy should it be needed. So far ELINT over-flights have not detected any DRADIS emissions coming from the surface but that doesn't mean they may not have surface to air missiles or any other form of surface to air weapons. A squadron from _Heroic_ has been tasked with SAM suppression and they'll be going in minutes before we do to stir up the hornet's nest."

The officers and NCO's in the room traded nervous glances and repressed shudders at that statement. 'Baiting the Hornet' was a dangerous mission. It was where a Viper pilot flew low and steady in the hopes of baiting SAM sites into locking him up whereby his wingmen could then engage the SAM sites trying to kill their buddy and destroy them. During the Cylon War pilots who performed this dangerous mission achieved the highest notoriety in the fleet.

They also had the highest casualties throughout the entire war of any squadron. Amazingly there was never a shortage of such brave men and women willing to do the job. They wore their own made up patch with pride: that of a mighty duck with a wicked grin chased by angry hornets. Curiously, no one seemed to know exactly where the patch originated from. To be a hornet baiter one had to have balls of solid steel and ice cold nerves. They were the fleet's adrenalin junkies; many of them literally laughing with glee at the hope of getting shot at. They were people who lived hard lives and simply didn't care about self preservation. They were reckless to a fault. They were a unique and _strange_ breed of pilots who performed one of the most dangerous missions in the fleet. They were the oddballs of the fleet and sadly common, from the poorer parts of society. And other pilots with a healthy sense of self preservation tended to shy away from them.

It was not something the officers in the room wanted to think about. They were ground pounders and preferred to fight and if necessary die on solid ground. But even so, SAM suppression was a very real concern and hopefully wouldn't be an issue on this mission if the fly boys and girls did their jobs right. It's a long way from orbit to ground. No one gave voice to the silent fear they all shared: being trapped in a burning Raptor plummeting to the ground, helpless and praying for a chance of survival however slim that would be. All they can do is hope they're not consumed by the flames and not flattened by the impact, and hope they could touch down and make a difference.

So say we all.

Colonel Carthan highlighted four points along the base camps out edges, "Notice these positions here, here, here and here. Based on positioning and the open fields of fire they cover it's a good bet they're heavy machine gun emplacements. As well you can see they have two entry/exit points that are heavily fortified. We'll have Second Battalion on hot standby in Raptors to launch in less than five minutes if things go south, but from what we're looking at, Third Battalion should be more than enough to deal with the problem. Any questions?"

Instantly a hand rose at that statement and all the officers and NCO's in the room turned to the person raising her hand.

"Captain Hafoka, you have a question?" Colonel Carthan asked.

Captain Leonie Hafoka was the commander of Alpha Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Strike Force; a native of Aquaria who joined the Marines to escape the small town nature of her home world, she enlisted at the tender age of seventeen to see the Colonies. Initially she had applied for a front line combat unit in the operating forces but had been rejected due to her size and gender. At five feet even she was about as petite as they came. However, what she lacked in size and strength she made up for in sheer tenacity and determination. She graduated early on a distance learning program from Kobol College on Gemenon and immediately again applied for front line combat duty.

She had been rejected out of hand. She had reapplied twice more only to be rejected again and again, ultimately being assigned to Marine Support Services. It seemed her dream of serving on a frontline assignment with an infantry company would never be fulfilled until she had a chance encounter with someone who would give her that opportunity. Vice Admiral Helena Cain. They had met during a fleet exercise where a young Second Lieutenant Hafoka, then the supply officer for the Marine detachment aboard _Pegasus_, had successfully taken command of the ship's Marines and fended off three waves of Cylon boarders. Cain had been so impressed with her she had personally put her in for a commendation. Upon learning of the young woman's desire to serve with the infantry, all it had taken were a few calls from the Admiral to make it happen. Now she was the commander of the best company in the entire 5th MSF, at least in her opinion.

"Sir, from what I see here those are some big open fields of fire. We'd be highly exposed with no cover or concealment. Exactly how far out do those fields of fire extend?"

"Anywhere between five hundred to eight hundred meters, minimal," The Colonel answered without hesitation.

The officers and NCOs repressed groans. Whoever these guys were, they chose their ground well, _really well_, which brought up the unpleasant prospect they were dealing with highly trained professionals, most likely former military turned mercenaries. More than one officer and NCO in the room had known someone to leave the service only to be recruited by some very wealthy and very shady corporate types who paid top dollar for their services. Idly, they wondered if there was someone down there they once served with. Although it couldn't be proven, Tassilo Antaiun was notorious for hiring highly trained combat troops, particularly Marines. This kind of operation certainly fit with his kind of handy work.

But that didn't matter now, as whoever was down there, they were good, and they chose their ground well. From the recon photos it was obvious that the base camp was heavily fortified with obstacles designed to slow advancing infantry and clear fields of fire covering every avenue of approach. Assaulting that position without indirect fire to soften it up would only lead to their Marines getting cut down like cattle once they hit open terrain. And they all knew it.

"Your orders are not to engage them Captain," Colonel Carthan reiterated. "Your orders are to surround them and establish a perimeter. Once we have them surrounded we'll then offer them a chance to surrender. If and only if they do not comply or if they open fire first, only then will we engage them."

"Sir, what are the rules and regulations for dealing with prisoners once we detain them?" the commander of Beta Company asked.

Carthan blinked at the question, "I'm sorry, what? The same rules and regulations apply now as they've always applied!" Carthan shot back angrily. "I want you to make it clear to your men and women. Under no circumstances will I tolerate torture or any unnecessary rough treatment of the prisoners once they are detained. If I do catch wind of something like this going on, I will prosecute them to the fullest extent of the Articles of War as laid down by the Admiralty. I don't give a frak how righteous they feel. If they cross that line they will pay the price, is that understood?"

Everyone nodded stiffly each one firmly understanding the potential disaster that could happen if things got out of hand.

"Sir, what about their ship?" The commander for Constellation Company asked.

Carthan shook his head. "Raptor recon flights haven't picked up anything on the surface. Either they have it hidden very well on the surface or they're waiting for pickup. _Galactica_ and _Perseus_ have recon flights operating in neighboring systems to find it but so far have had no success." Carthan took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Are there any more questions? If not, start reviewing this material and brief your personnel. We kick off tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

The assembled Marines rose again as Carthan made his way of the dais. He caught Hafoka's eye as he walked by and motioned for her to follow him. They soon made their way out of the room and into the hallway. Carthan turned to Hafoka, who had an obvious look of concern.

"Nothing major Captain. I just want to run a couple of issues by you." With that they turned into an office and closed the hatch with a dull thud.

"You're going to have a couple of additional people on your trip tomorrow."

Hafoka's eyes narrowed quickly despite her best efforts. "Who sir?"

"Adama is sending one of his people; he'll pilot your Raptor and be on the ground with you. He'll also be acting as one of your air controllers; I'm told he's fully qualified."

Hafoka immediately protested. "Sir, with all due respect, I have a damn good _Marine_ pilot who knows how we operate and what we expect. It's a little late in the game to be giving me some Navy moron who wouldn't know a hot LZ if it slapped him in the face. He's.."

Carthan stopped Hafoka with a raised and a withered look. "I understand Captain but this comes directly from Commander Adama and he's made his position clear. Just use him and limit how much damage he can do. I know Adama is putting him there because he's afraid we'll frak it up or something. Just keep this guy on a leash. His secondary purpose will be to escort the second individual."

"Who is, sir?

"Doctor Cyrus, the head archeologist from the science team." Carthan saw that it was Hafoka with the withered look now. "He practically begged to go and he'll ride the Dragon Wagon down with battalion staff. He is our expert on these ruins and what these people might be doing there. As soon as you secure the camp and declare it safe, he's to be given full access to assess the area. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Don't worry Leonie, just keep them out of the way and accomplish the mission. The Marines will make history tomorrow and you'll be leading the way. Just one more thing."

"Sir?"

"Get this done quick and hard. I can't go into everything but we don't want to be out here any longer than we have to." Carthan sighed, wishing he could tell her of the Cylon threat but that was closely held. "Just get it done."

"Yes sir."

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

"Stand easy." Commander Adama barely looked up from his desk, a carpet of paper hiding the natural wood. Before him his son altered his stance but did not do much to release his tension. The atmosphere in the room remained charged, ready to bubble over at any second into one more argument.

Both men had largely avoided each other on the mission so far, posing for a few publicity shots before going their separate ways. Lee had integrated himself into the air wing pretty easily, his natural ability serving to make him a respected comrade. He was glad to have Kara here, her attitude puncturing any morose feelings he had. For a while anyway.

This was still his idea of hell.

"Captain." The elder Adama spoke formally. "You are by now aware that we are about to reach Kobol?"

"Major Spencer briefed us sir." Lee answered just as mechanically.

"Then you will be aware we are putting a team on the planet. Their mission is to seize what is probably a criminal camp on the planet and secure any artifacts they may be stealing from the site."

"Yes sir." Lee nodded.

"I want you as part of that team."

He felt a conflict of emotion, his disdain for his father mixed with enthusiasm for the assignment. To take to the skies of Kobol, soar above the home of the gods, even his grounded personality couldn't help but be inspired by that.

"Understood sir. I'll inform Vigilante Squadron."

"Actually Captain you won't be going in with the air support, the Marines have their own fighters for that. You'll be taking down a Raptor as part of the troop drop…"

"What?"

"And then acting as forward air controller." Bill Adama finished. "A role you are trained and qualified to perform."

"Along with half the Marines on this mission!" Lee snapped.

"Remember your station Captain." Bill hardened his voice.

"Sir." Lee bit on his lip.

"I am fully aware you are a Viper pilot, and a good one. A damn good one." The older man allowed. "But this mission needs other qualities, something you possess and few others do."

"And what exactly is that?" Lee asked harshly. "Sir?"

"My trust." Bill Adama fixed the eyes of his son. "And my confidence."

Lee didn't have a quick answer for that, it was unexpected.

"Well sir, there's Starbuck, or Helo, maybe…"

"Captain." The Commander interrupted. "Lee, you are the only one I can trust to go down there and act as I would act. Not Kara, or Helo, or Tigh… definitely not Tigh. You."

"I don't understand, why would you need me down there?"

"Because the lead team we're sending in, Alpha Company, are assault troops. Remember what happened when assault troops were deployed against civilians?"

"The Teacher Riots." Lee nodded. "But these aren't teachers."

"We don't know who is down on Kobol. We think grave robbers, but we don't know. If they are criminals, or hostile, or gods forbid Cylons we'll need people like Alpha Company to handle it swiftly and professionally."

"And if those people on Kobol aren't hostile…"

"Then I need an officer with a level head who won't jump in both feet first." Bill finished the thought. "Someone I can trust to prevent things turning into another massacre."

"There's got to be people in the Marines you can send in, I mean Sergeant Matthias…"

"Is a good soldier, but she can't pull rank down there. You can."

"You want me to pull rank on the commander of Alpha Company?" Lee chuckled. "You think those Marines will listen to me or her if we get into an argument?"

"They'll listen to you, because you are down there on my authority as mission commander." Bill said firmly. "Nominally Captain Hafoka is in command, but if you believe she is making the wrong decision on anything, you step in and take command. As a naval officer you have the right to assume command of Marines, you also have seniority over Hafoka."

"She's going to know I'm going down there to look over her shoulder."

"Probably, and she'll hate it, and you." Bill nodded. "Got a problem with that Captain?"

"No sir. Not a one."

"I am also sending a member of the science team down with the Dragon Wagon behind you."

"Not Baltar."

"Dr. Cyrus." Bill smiled slightly. "Keep him close beside you; he might be useful if this group isn't from home."

"So officially my job is to act as forward air controller and escort to Doctor Cyrus." Lee listed. "Unofficially I'm to monitor the Marines and assume command if I think it's about to turn into an unnecessary bloodbath?"

"Correct." The Commander nodded. "If these people are a threat, then you sit back and let the Marines handle it. If however this is a First Contact situation, then you and Dr. Cyrus will take point."

"First Contact." Lee repeated, he hadn't actually connected those words until now. "Like science fiction."

"It might be about to be revealed as fact." Bill intoned. "You understand why you are on this mission? What I am asking from you?"

"Yes sir."

"Report to the _Heroic_ at once." Bill stood. "I'd prefer to go myself, if I knew for sure it was a contact scenario I would not force this responsibility on you."

"But if it turns into a firefight we can't risk a senior officer." Lee accepted. "I'm more expendable."

"No you're not, son." The elder Adama held out his hand. "Don't take any chances; you won't have a lot of support."

"I understand."

"I can't bury another son."

The younger Adama shook his hand, it wasn't a warm gesture, but it wasn't icy either.

"You won't have to."

**Marinestar **_**Heroic**_

"Captain Lee Adama." He snapped a clean salute, proving he could be the clean cut officer when necessary.

"Captain." Hafoka responded bluntly. "Are you fully qualified on Raptors?"

"Yes, I have basic, advanced and…"

"Yes will do Captain." She cut him off, regarding him the way a school teacher looks at the class ne'er do well. "If I want chapter and verse I'll ask for it, are we clear?"

"Yes _Captain_."

"Your job is to get us planet. I don't know why they gave me you instead of our usual pilot but I can guess."

"And may I ask what reason you think that is?"

"You may not ask. You may follow my orders, you may get in the ship, and you may keep your frakking mouth shut." Hafoka growled. "You're a Navy pilot on _Galactica_, but on this tub you're flying with Marines. Don't expect us to sugar coat our words or iron your shirts for you."

"No, _Captain_ Hafoka."

"Load up Captain Adama, and you better be as good as you pretend to be."

With no further comment Lee clambered into the Raptor, the slightly larger version used for troop insertions still quite familiar. The Raptor Ultra lacked the sensors and computers of its Navy cousin, using that space for extra troop capacity. It was a longer craft too, all in all giving the bird space for twenty fully armed marines and their kit.

Across the hangar deck ground crews detached fuelling pipes and skittered aside, the three platoons of heavily armed Marines stomped onto the deck, their sergeants getting them in line and checking off their gear. From the cockpit Lee could only hear the occasional bark of command or shout of response, these particular Marines dressed in digital temperate camouflage uniforms rather than the black ship board gear he was more familiar with. They were also hauling heavier weapons and a lot more gear, each with a pack and assorted pouches hanging from their flak vests. Topping it off was a full sized assault rifle, a far larger and more powerful weapon than shipboard teams used.

He watched the sergeants winding up the Marines, yelling at them as they yelled back, pumping up their blood and stirring their aggression. These soldiers were the sharp end, orbit to ground assault troops, first on the ground fighting every inch of the way down. They were mean, they were famously aggressive and suffered from an appalling discipline record, and in combat they usually took massive casualties. It was a hard job for hard soldiers, and command accepted their discipline problems in return for their willingness to get on a Raptor and brave flak and dug in defenses before higher quality units went in. They were specially trained for these sorts of hostile assaults making them the only real choice for this mission, but they were also a blunt weapon. Subtle didn't enter their vocabulary.

With a final chant of anger and defiance the sergeants let them go and they stormed onto their Raptors, the very air burning with their eagerness for battle. They were barely contained balls of fury, yet contained it was. They answered orders, sounded off as they were counted into their seats, and waited silently clutching their gear. But in their eyes, behind their training, lay a true killer instinct and an urge to finally get some action after two months in a tin can.

Lee was taking in the command platoon including Captain Hafoka. There were five Raptor Ultra's going in, three with the combat platoons, Lee with the command platoon, and a fifth carrying supplies for establishing a forward base. Everything Alpha Company needed for its mission.

"Buckle up, come on!" Hafoka snapped. "We're on a schedule here."

Lee warmed up the engines, closing the hatch as the Marines settled in.

"All ready back there?" He called.

"We're clear, get a move on, fly boy!"

Lee bit back his first answer. "Roger that Captain."

The five Raptor Ultra's began to move, pulled by magnetic trolleys under the deck. One by one they lined up and were moved to the deck elevators, the _Heroic_ having many more than her half sister _Galactica_. The airlocks cycled behind them, throwing the ships into darkness as the air evacuated. Above them a red light shone down, growing as the outer doors opened and revealed the flight deck.

_"Myrmidon Flight, Heroic Flight Control, we're raising you to the flight deck."_ A crackling voice informed.

"Myrmidon Lead confirmed." Lee responded. "Systems green, we're ready to go."

_"Roger that Myrmidon Flight, you are number two on the runway. Standby."_

The transport craft were raised on the deck lifts, the heavy metal slabs bringing them up into the covered flight deck. It looked a lot like a Battlestar flight deck, if a little wider to accommodate the more transport orientated vessels that a Marinestar handled.

They rose in time to see their support taking off, four gunships silently shrieking down the runway and out into space. Each gunship was a standard Raptor armed with rocket pods, missiles and chain guns, literal flying tanks that could decimate enemy formations with contempt. Most Colonial forces had replaced their heavy armored vehicles with gunships, embracing the doctrine of speed and impact. Ahead of them was the Taurus 'Dragon Wagon' assault ship maintaining a lazy orbit within the protective envelope of the _Heroic_'s guns just waiting for the signal to land and deploy its payload. Inside were the fourteen Landrams of Daggit Troop as well as a few of their motorized vehicles and one very nervous civilian doctor eager to get on the ground.

_"Myrmidon Flight,_ Heroic_, you are clear to launch."_

"_Heroic_, Myrmidon Flight, moving into position."

He eased the Raptor forward, the engines at minimal thrust as he taxied off the lift and onto the deck itself, turning the nose to face open space. Another Raptor lined up beside him, the rest behind.

"_Heroic_, Myrmidon Flight, requesting final clearance."

_"Clearance granted, good hunting."_

Lee exhaled heavily. "Roger that."

He opened the throttles, the heavy ship lurching forward. After flying Vipers the Raptor was like moving in slow motion, every action taking four or five times as long to respond. The acceleration was steady, the bracing on the covered deck flickering by as he approached the exit, then he was in open space. To his right the grey wall of the _Heroic_'s bow loomed over him, and to his left was Kobol. It was an amazing sight, Lee was no great believer, but seeing such a rich world from orbit was nothing less than a spiritual moment. Unlike the Colonies, surrounded in satellites and ships, this world was untouched, unspoiled. It was something amazing.

"Hammer Flight, Myrmidon Flight." Lee contacted the gunships. "Ready to go?"

_ "Affirmative Myrmidon Flight, we'll form on you and head for the deck."_

Lee turned the nose of his craft, the blue and white world dominating his vision. He couldn't wait to set foot on it.

Behind him the _Heroic_ launched a squadron of fighters, the Marine Vipers camouflaged in shades of grey and green instead of the single shade Navy planes wore. They scattered from the sides of the flight pod and streaked past, lined up to go in first and take out any installations that lit up the Raptors.

_"This is Mudskipper."_ The lead Viper pilot greeted. _"We're in position to begin Hornet Baiting, everything set?"_

"All set." Lee answered. "We're on our way down, right behind you."

_"Understood Myrmidon Flight, Hammer Flight."_

Lee increased power. They would go in fast, full throttle all the way down. A jump was considered too risky; they'd be doing it the old fashioned way and relying on the firepower of the escorts to keep them safe.

_"We'll sweep the area and look for targets."_ Mudskipper informed. _"Let's go crash us a party."_

The Vipers snapped hard around and burned their main engines, picking up velocity as they closed on Kobol. The fighters would be vulnerable during re-entry, the heat and magnetism affecting their DRADIS until they made it down to blue skies. As such they were making the transition as fast as they could, taking their fighters to the edges of their stress tolerances.

The Raptors moved in behind, slower but still accelerating faster than average. Lee watched his instruments carefully, he'd never tried this in a Raptor before and wasn't about to screw up in front of half the fleet, not to mention the Marines. The honor of the Navy was at stake here, and he wouldn't give those Jarheads the satisfaction.

Behind them the _Heroic_ launched her last craft, a Taurus class heavy assault vessel. Most Marines called them 'Dragon Wagons' on account of the immense amount of fire they could hurl out at a given target. In this instance the assault ship was bringing in the Marine's vehicles, 14 armored Landrams to give them a little support. They weren't the more potent Minotaur AFV's used by true armored units but unlike the Minotaur's, Landrams had tracks. Carthan wanted speed in this operation, and the Landrams could be damn fast when they wanted to be.

The Taurus followed at a safe distance, picking its own landing site a few miles from the primary target to drop off its cargo and then act as the local command post. A good chunk of the battalion staff was inside watching every move the team made. No pressure at all then.

"Entering the upper atmosphere." Lee reported, perfectly on cue as the ship jolted. "Getting some ionization on the hull, going to get a little choppy."

"Great." The stern Marine officer grunted, virtually blaming Lee for the existence of turbulence.

"It's a bonus; make us harder to spot at altitude." He offered simply.

He held formation, the other Raptors barely visible as vapor whipped past the canopy. It took quite some skill to stay on approach, the auto pilot only able to cope with small adjustments in descent. It was up to Lee and his instincts to handle the turbulence buffeting the craft, one severe bump and he could find himself entering the lower atmosphere hundreds of miles off course.

"Estimate forty seconds to stable transition." He reported. "Ninety until we hit dirt."

"Time to lock and load." Hafoka ordered with relish.

"Fighters are breaking and moving into SEAD positions." Lee checked DRADIS. "Gunships are staying close with us."

If everything went well all three elements would arrive in sequence, fighters, gunships, then troop transports with the assault ship a couple of minutes behind. Everything was going by the numbers.

The Vipers successfully transitioned fully through into the atmosphere where their DRADIS's snapped on in perfect working order without the interference from the transition from space. Without even bothering to look to their DRADIS to see if they had been locked up the Viper squadron performing the 'Hornet Baiting' SAED mission executed well rehearsed evasive maneuvers with half the squadron diving for the deck. The other half began pulling hard banks and twisting turns while deploying chaff and pushing their electronic countermeasures to the max. Once they were satisfied there wasn't incoming ordinance only then did they check their DRADIS and scan the skyline around them.

"_All Vipers, this is Mudskipper Lead, let's get busy. Ducky, take Saber Flight and begin sweeping the outer edges of the target perimeter, make some serious noise! Fox Flight, you're with me, it's time to give these grave robbing fraks their wake up call!"_

**PXG-147**

"I've got to be honest Mike; the Ancients were anything but original." Air Force Master Sergeant Jeremy Bosworth stood looking around the area while throwing a sideways smirk at the addressee, Doctor Mike Balinsky. Balinsky, the assigned scientist and archeologist on Bosworth's team, SG-13, had grown accustomed to Bosworth's humor and decided to play along.

"Oh yeah, how's that Jeremy?"

"Well, as far as I can tell it's like they had a secret addiction to Portland, Oregon or something. Every hit we've gotten on them or their tech seems to be in someplace like the Pacific Northwest. For such advanced people, they lacked some originality. How about Aruba or something?" With that he looked towards the sky, mostly dark blue with a hint of overcast.

Balinsky, who had been carefully examining some sort of column adorned with various runes, wiped his eyes, smiled and looked over. "Well, we think they chose temperate environments on each world for the moderate weather. I can't say I blame them; you want to go to Abydos or Dakara?"

Bosworth could only moan and shake his head at the thought. He'd seen enough deserts thank you very much. "No thanks."

The third member of the team, Air Force Staff Sergeant Eric Wade, laughed at Bosworth's desert discomfort as he adjusted the sling of his custom M-4 carbine. He'd spent six months in eastern Afghanistan as a Combat Controller assigned to an Army Special Forces team hunting Al-Qaeda elements and had seen enough mountains and deserts for a while. "Don't worry Jeremy; I'm sure a nice six month vacation to the Middle East can be arranged."

"Fuck that."

With that all three men went back to their duties, the two Air Force members providing security as their teammate Dr. Balinsky continued his work. Since setting up camp on the unpopulated world, the SGC and IOA researchers and scientists had been begging and pleading to be allowed farther out into the countryside to investigate the seemingly never-ending ruins. Colonel Dixon, the head of SG-13 and the deployment's commander, had been hamstrung by a lack of military personnel, the largest group being the combat engineers constructing the base camp. Dixon would not allow any science party outside the immediate area of the camp without at least two escorts. As such it had limited their scientist's efforts. Good news had arrived from the SGC in the form of over 50 more Air Force personnel who were to arrive any day.

A few minutes passed in relative silence as Balinsky did his work, taking photos and making scrupulous notes in a book. Bosworth and Wade, their eyes surveying the surrounding area for threats, had been quietly discussing the ongoing Major League Baseball season, highlighted for them by the first-place Colorado Rockies.

"I'm telling you no one will stop them in the NL."

Bosworth just shook his head. "That may be, but then they'll probably meet the Red Sox in the Series again and get stomped like last time."

"I don't know about that."

"Hey Jeremy?"

"Yeah Mike."

"About how far are we from the camp?"

"We're about 5 clicks away. We made good…"

_WHOOSH _

Bosworth was suddenly interrupted by the telltale sound of a jet engine at low altitude and it was apparent that it was very low and very fast. The eyes of all three men widened suddenly and for Bosworth and Wade, training kicked in.

Bosworth pointed at Balinsky. "No way that's ours. Mike, grab your shit now! We need to get back to the camp! Eric, take point!"

"Got it."

Both Airmen brought their weapons to the ready position as Bosworth grabbed Balinsky and threw him roughly between them. With that the small party began running in the direction of the encampment.

Back at the SGC camp, the sudden and unexpected arrival of fast-moving aircraft had caught Colonel Dixon as he walked from one out-building to another. Dixon looked to the air to see a fighter-like aircraft he wasn't familiar with streak over the camp at an incredible speed at no more than 200 feet high. If the camp had had glass windows they would have been shattered easily. Dixon's eyeballs bulged and he muttered "Shit" as he broke into a sprint. He ran in the direction of a sandbag and wood bunker that served as the camp's BDOC or Base Defense Operations Center. Upon entering he encountered Petty Officer Vargas, one of the Navy SEALS from SG-44 who had the duty of manning it that afternoon.

"Was that what I thought it was sir?"

Dixon ignored Vargas as he grabbed his tactical radio. "End Zone, this is Dixon."

"_This is End Zone."_

"Activate the gate and dial the SGC! Advise them we have aircraft of unknown origin and intent buzzing the camp. No idea about ground troops but it's a good bet. Once you contact them; hold the gate as long as you can. If you can't, then evacuate to Earth! Do you copy?"

"_Roger that sir!"_

Dixon turned to Vargas. "How many people do we have outside the wire?"

"Ten. The three from your team and then Lieutenant Hailey and Commander Harper took five scientists out but they're on their way back now." As if to confirm this, Lt. Cdr. Harper came running in.

"Colonel, we've got more than fighters! I saw what has to be some sort of troop-carrying ship. Little smaller than a Chinook with jet engines."

"Fuck!" Dixon activated his tactical radio again. "Bosworth, this is Dixon. You copy?"

"_Go sir!"_

"What's your status?"

"_We're about three to four clicks out and moving as quick as we can!"_

"Haul some ass Jeremy, the area just got busy!"

"_Copy!"_

With that he turned to Vargas. "Get on the radio. Have all position go to Delta and have all the civilians go to the bunkers. Get the engineers to reinforce the PDP's and ECP's." Dixon was referring to the Perimeter Defense Positions and Entry Control Points that ringed the perimeter of the camp.

"Yes sir."

**Marine Strike Force**

**Above Kobol**

The Raptors of Alpha Company descended through the atmosphere with a swiftness that belied their size and bulk. Packed inside as tight as sardines in a can, more than one hundred sixty Marines were locked and loaded and thrumming with nervous anticipation. Behind them the Raptors of Beta, Constellation and Echo companies broke off and moved to their assigned sectors to begin their landing operations.

"Thirty seconds till touchdown," Lee informed from the pilots seat. The Marines exchanged nervous and excited glances, whispered last minutes prayers and spoke words of encouragement to the newer members of their unit. On another Raptor, Marine aircrews were doing their job.

"Ares Six, Hammer Lead picking up increased level of chatter coming from the target. I think they know we're incoming."

"_Hammer Lead, Ares Six. Kill it,"_ came the curt response.

"Roger that!" The pilot replied. Looking back to his back-seater, the pilot grinned as his DRADIS intercept officer gave him the thumbs up.

**SGC Forward Operating Base**

**PXG-147**

Dixon walked over to a map overlay of the camp that showed its defenses and the surrounding area and looked to Harper. "Jon I want you to…"

"Colonel!"

Dixon looked over to Vargas, who was manipulating the tactical radio set.

"We've gone dark sir. We're being jammed by someone and it's effective. I can't get anything but dead air."

"Shit. Okay, Jon, I want you to get out and establish that our perimeter posts are fully spun up. I'm going to grab Major Whittier and his SF team as a response force should we get hit anywhere on the perimeter."

"No problem. I'd recommend that as soon as you get them; have one of Whittier's guys take over BDOC. Vargas is a sniper and I want him in position to provide cover." Dixon nodded and Harper turned to Vargas. "Sam, as soon as you get relieved, take the Barrett and go find yourself a good spot." Vargas nodded and Harper ran from the bunker as a deafening sound was heard overhead, sounding like a 747 was about to land on the roof of the bunker.

**Marine Strike Force**

"Landing zone in sight, ten seconds till touchdown," Lee informed from the cockpit. The Marines straightened up in their seats and gripped their weapons tighter.

"Touchdown in three…two…one….touchdown!" The Raptors settled with a jolt and twin side doors popped open. The Marines filed out in a well executed maneuver as they quickly established a secure perimeter weapons at the ready and scanning their surroundings.

"_Ares Six, Alpha One Actual. Alpha Company on the ground and securing landing site one. No casualties."_

"_Ares, Six, Beta One Actual. Beta Company on the ground and securing landing zone. No casualties"_

"_Ares Six, Constellation One Actual. Constellation Company is on the ground at landing zone site three. All secure. No casualties."_

"_Ares Six, Echo One Actual. Echo Company is on the ground and securing landing zone. No casualties."_

"_Ares Six, Headquarters One Actual. Headquarters Company touching down now. We will establish RETRANS sites and set up indirect fire support as soon as our LZ is secure. No casualties to report."_

"_NET CALL, NET CALL this is Ares Six. Confirmed and understood successful securing of primary landing zones. Proceed with phase two of the operation. Tighten the noose boys and girls. Beta Company, keep our landing zone secure. We're coming down to deploy Daggit Troop."_

Captain Hafoka briefly checked in with her platoon leaders while her first sergeant conferred with her senior NCOs. A detail was established to guard their Raptors but also to keep a troublesome fleet captain out of their way.

"Captain Adama," Captain Hafoka waved over. Lee crouched down and moved swiftly to her side next to one of her platoon leaders and the company first sergeant behind cover.

"Captain Adama you will remain here with the rest of our pilots until the 'Dragon Wagon' has touched down and you've received your package. Then and _only_ then will I consider allowing you to join us. Alpha Company will advance to the target and set up the perimeter. We're leaving now."

"Now, wait just a minute captain-"

"No Captain Adama. I will not have some fleet flyboy pretending to be a Marine interfere with my frakking mission. I have good _real_ Marine air controllers who can do the job better than you. Marines I trust. And I don't trust you or why your father sent you."

Lee stiffened. Captain Hafoka noticed and responded with a superior smirk "Yeah, that's right. I know you're the fleet commander's son. Doesn't change the fact that I have a mission to accomplish. Besides, your mandate for being with us was to protect Doctor Cyrus when he eventually gets on the ground. He's not here is he? Which means you can't protect him from the front lines when he hasn't even touched down."

Lee glowered in response. He knew she was right, what's more he knew she knew it too.

Hafoka smirked to him then signaled her people to begin their advance. They moved out with their lead platoon out front with their second and third platoons on both flanks and the headquarters platoon pulling up the rear. Just as their units began to disappear into the nearby tree line Hafoka turned back to address Lee. "And just for the record Captain, I _am_ the queen bitch you think I am. Don't ever forget it." And with a departing one finger salute Alpha Company disappeared from sight while Lee Adama prayed that his package would get on the ground soon. His ability to accomplish both of his assigned tasks which seemed easy enough during his briefing now seemed totally at odds with one another.

Not too far off a different struggle was underway. "Let's go Mike! Keep moving!" Bosworth pushed the scientist along as the three men made a mad dash for their compound and the relative safety of its walls. While moving they had watched as more ships, certainly troop transports of some variety had over-flown the area and landed nearby. Their only hope of making it back was speed which meant sacrificing some stealth. Bosworth and Wade were both experienced Air Force special operators who knew how to avoid detection; having Balinsky along would only slow down their effort. Soon enough they were confronted by an open patch of field; going around would eat up valuable time but traversing it would leave them exposed. Bosworth was forced into a split second decision and decided to take the risk. The three began crossing the field only a kilometer and a half from the camp.

"Keep moving Mike, we're almost there. Eric, we clear back there?"

"Clean so far, nothing."

"Oh fuck!"

Before he could react, Bosworth was confronted by several well-armed men in military uniforms and body armor blocking their advance as well as more in the tree line. They all had their weapons pointed at the small group. Bosworth knew immediately that the game was up; the unknown group had the drop on them and there was no cover to speak of.

"Colonial Marines! Drop your weapons now!"

Bosworth slowly brought his M-4 down from the ready position and motioned for Wade to do the same. "Easy guys, we mean no harm. My name is Master Ser…"

"I don't give a frak who you are! Drop your frakking weapons now and lay down on the ground with your arms spread! Do it or we'll frakking shoot you where you stand!"

"Alright guys, let's do what they ask." Slowly the group divested themselves of their rifles, pistols and other weapons and lowered themselves to the ground. Suddenly they were descended upon by the armed group like a pack of wolves and the beating started. Balinsky received a quick and sudden kick to the diaphragm that was followed by the air escaping his lungs.

"You grave-robbing fraks are gonna get yours now!"

Six of the Colonial Marines proceeded to first tie up the three SGC personnel and then each received a series of vicious punches and kicks to vulnerable areas that left them reeling. Balinsky had blood streaming from his nose and Wade was trying to regain his breath as more punches landed in his mid-section. Finally, a Marine NCO called a halt to the one-sided boxing match.

"Alright, they've had enough for now. Get 'em up and let's get them to the LZ for pickup." The NCO turned to the three with a clear look of disdain. "If you frakkers have any hope of getting outta here in one piece, you better be prepared to talk." The three SGC personnel simply caught their breath and stayed quiet as they were led down the path. Along the way each received a couple of cheap shots from random Marines with looks of hate in their eyes. Soon enough they found themselves in another clearing near the base, except this one was full of small troop-ship looking craft that none of the SGC team had ever seen before. Each was dragged over to one and roughly thrown to the ground without care. Finally, a somewhat large man clad and armed like the others came over and stood over the seated men. He hadn't been authorized to question the prisoners but no one was stopping him either.

"My name is Sergeant Hadlin, Colonial Marines. You are going to answer my questions right now or I'm going to let my Marines," with a jerk of his finger over his left shoulder Hadlin pointed to five very mean looking soldiers, "teach you how to talk." Hadlin turned to Wade. "Let's start with you. Well? I'm waiting."

Wade looked up at the imposing man and kept a neutral face, even if it was stained in his blood. "Staff Sergeant Eric Wade, United States Air Force, Serial Number 033-78-9075."

Hadlin's eyebrows arched. "Excuse me?"

"Staff Sergeant Eric Wade, United States Air Force, Serial Number 033-78-9075."

"What does that mean? What the frak does 'United States Air Force' mean?"

"Staff Sergeant Eric Wade, United Sta…" Wade's recitation was cut short by a swift fist connecting with his jaw, sending a stream of blood flying from his lip.

"You frakker! You do not want to be playing games with us. You come here and defile the home of the Gods! We got enough firepower here to turn your friends into target practice. The only way they get out of here alive is you helping us!" With that, Hadlin's attention turned to Bosworth, whose face had stayed neutral as well throughout. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"Master Sergeant Jeremy Bosworth, United States Air Force, Serial Number 156-89-1732."

Hadlin merely crossed his large arms and looked over at his Marines. "Apparently we've got some actors here as well as heretics." He turned to Balinsky. "And you?"

"Doctor Michael Balinsky, Civilian, United States Department of Defense, Social Security Number 039-44-6199."

With that, Hadlin shrugged his shoulders as if not having a care in the world and leaving the three to their fates. "Alright, that's how you want to play it." He turned to his men. "Gentlemen, please loosen some tongues."

The five Colonial Marines stepped forward and began assaulting the three prisoners with their fists and feet, taking turns with each and swapping victims randomly. The three SGC men didn't speak except to grunt in pain or in Balinsky's case, to cry out in pain after a couple of choice shots to his already tender mid-section. Wade and Bosworth on several occasions tried to draw the Marines' attention away from Balinsky in an attempt to protect the civilian scientist. This went on for a couple of minutes until the sergeant waved off his men.

"Anything to say now, you frakking heretics?"

Bosworth, who was lying on his side, simply spit blood from his mouth and looked up at the Marine. "Master Sergeant Jeremy Bosworth, United States Air Force, Serial Number 156…" Before he could finish, Sergeant Hadlin reared back and launched a sharp kick to Bosworth's side that sent him over again. The scene was suddenly interrupted by a loud and furious scream.

"Just what the frak is going on!"

Sergeant Hadlin looked over to see a Colonial Fleet pilot coming stalking over, a look of sheer venom in his eyes as if ready for a fight. "I asked you a frakking question sergeant!"

"Sergeant Hadlin, sir, we're just…"

"I didn't ask your frakking name! What were you doing?"

"We were just…"

Lee Adama was incensed and ready to kill. He'd had a bad feeling that this sort of thing would happen and he'd just been proven right. "Just what? Beating the frak out of a defenseless prisoner? You guys are real frakking tough." With that Adama walked right up to the sergeant and went face to face with the larger man. "Did you even have authority to question anyone sergeant?"

"No, but we're facing…"

"I didn't frakking think so." Lee turned to the group. "I want all of you to go sit in that Raptor over there and not leave. I don't give a frak if the whole Cylon fleet shows up. I'm reporting all of you for violations of the Articles of War. Now go!"

None of the Marines dared to argue or disobey the Fleet officer and walked away like scolded children. Adama pointed to another pair of Marines who'd just arrived on the scene.

"Corporal!"

The young Marine sprinted over. "I want two guards on these prisoners. Move them to that Raptor over there. They are not to be questioned or harmed. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!"

Unknown to Adama, Bosworth and Wade shared a quick look and a knowing glance. They'd seen this play before. Both were graduates of the Air Force's Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape or SERE school and had seen this play before. Rough up the detainees and then send in the compassionate one who tries to be your friend. An advanced version of the old Good Cop/Bad Cop routine. Both silently agreed that the new arrival could go fuck himself just as much as the last crew. They wouldn't talk.

Lee Adama watched as the three prisoners were escorted away to a holding Raptor. He took the time to study them for the first time and he was intrigued by what he saw. Immediately, something set off alarm bells in his head but without further information he couldn't place it. Something wasn't right.

**Stargate Command**

Another day was coming to a close at the SGC, and like any other US military installation the daytime contingent would be turning things over to the night crew to manage. It had actually been a slower than normal day by the SGC's standards, with a couple of diplomatic missions and supply and personnel transfers to the Alpha and Beta sites highlighting the schedule. The day's Officer of the Watch, Air Force Lt. Col. Tom Cordes, wasn't exactly complaining as he finished up his paperwork for the day. Cordes had worked busier ones and he didn't mind the occasional snoozer. He had about 15 minutes before his relief would be taking over and he had plans with his wife for the night to go to dinner, plans he wanted to keep. As he signed off on the last reports, his dinner plans got wiped out.

An alarm sounded as the technician called out the all-too-familiar warning. "Unscheduled off-world activation!"

Cordes sprang from his seat with an annoyed look. "Close the iris. Alert the defense team."

The familiar sound of the iris shutting greeted the dozen Security Forces troops who entered the embarkation room and took up their designated positions. The two .50 caliber machine guns along with personnel weapons were brought to bear on the closed event horizon. In the control room Cordes waited for the technician's report.

"Sir, we're receiving an audio and visual signal via MALP from our expedition on PXG-147."

Cordes wracked his brain for a moment without bothering to refer to the nearby chart that tracked all missions. It came to him quickly, remembering that it was Colonel Dixon's mission to the abandoned Ancient city.

"Bring it up."

A picture soon appeared on the video screen showing a man in BDU's staring into the MALP's camera. Cordes immediately sensed trouble as the man on the other end had a look of severe concern on his face, but not panic.

"Sierra Gulf Charlie, this is Sierra Gulf Four Four, how copy?

Cordes grabbed the nearby microphone. "Sierra Gulf Four Four, Sierra Gulf Charlie reads you loud and clear. Go with authentication."

"Authentication Five Zulu Quebec Sierra Four Nine. How copy?"

Cordes turned and looked at the technician, who'd already authenticated the code and nodded.

"Sierra Gulf Four Four, authentication accepted. Go with message."

"SGC, be advised we have a Rainfall Condition, I say again, Rainfall Condition. How copy?"

Cordes blanched. Like any typical military operation of such magnitude, the SGC had codes for all manner of situations. In this case, a Rainfall Condition meant an unknown and potentially hostile force had appeared and was threatening SGC personnel.

"We copy. Rainfall Condition. What's your current status?"

"In the last few minutes both our encampment and the surrounding area have been over flown by high-speed aircraft. Unknown if they're space-based. We've also seen what look like possible troop transports landing in the vicinity of the compound. Since then our communications with Colonel Dixon and the BDOC have been cut. I think it's some form of jamming. Two of us are hold up at the gate, no sign of hostiles. Request instructions. Over."

"Standby." Cordes grabbed an unassuming black phone nearby and waited as it immediately rang.

"General Landry."

"Sir, this is Colonel Cordes in the control room. We have a team reporting a Rainfall Condition."

"On my way."

Less than two minutes later General Landry came bounding into the room. "Status?"

Cordes looked up from the screen. "I have a member of SG-44 on video and audio feed from PXG-147's gate sir. He's reporting aircraft buzzing their compound and possible troop landings. Their communications with Colonel Dixon have been cut; possible jamming."

"Shit" Landry muttered under his breath as he went for the microphone. "This is Landry, who am I speaking with?"

"Sir, this is Petty Officer Gamble, SG-44."

"Be advised, we'll start organizing a response here. Can you hold your position?"

"As of now, yes sir. We've had no sightings of potential hostiles yet but they're still overflying the area."

"Copy that. Hold the gate, Gamble, as long as practicable. If you can't hold any longer evacuate through to either here or to an alternate site."

"Copy sir."

"SGC out."

Landry looked over at Cordes. "Initiate a recall of all section heads."

With that Landry walked over to another phone bank and lifted a receiver. "This is General Landry, get me the NMCC."

**SGC Forward Operating Base**

Dixon knew he wasn't in a good position, no, it was a horrible one. His command was in an exposed location, seemingly surrounded by a force of unknown strength and quality, his communications were cut off and three of his men were trapped outside the wire and possibly killed or captured. Internally he raged that he couldn't help his team, after all they were his men and his friends. But he also had 70 others who were depending on him. That had to take priority. He stood in BDOC and considered his options. His radio communications was cut off, so unless the SGC dialed in and broke the jamming, they weren't calling home. He could only communicate with his positions through runner or field phone. He had considered ordering a hasty dash for the gate but they had no idea what type of force lay between them and the ruins. As it was, this mysterious force also had ample air cover and could devastate them in an open dash.

"Have we been able to break through any of this jamming? Can we at least contact our guys at the gate?"

The Airman manning the radio shook his head. "Negative sir, they're blanketing the net good. We're getting nothing."

Dixon swore to himself and looked at his plot board outlining his defenses. He raged internally that the SGC had left him out here so naked; he lacked even the most basic sensor or video surveillance systems such as TASS or the Army's new RAID system. All that had been planned for the follow-on force and had he had them now might have afforded him a much clearer picture of what he faced. His perimeter was fully manned and Commander Harper and Major Whittier were making the rounds checking everyone's status. His observation positions were reporting large numbers of troops slowly encircling the compound from all sides. Whoever these people were, they knew vertical envelopment tactics well he mused. Harper stumbled back into BDOC and motioned Dixon over to the map.

"They've got us boxed in good and surrounded. I saw movement on all sides. Whoever they are, they're well armed and equipped. Automatic weapons of some sort, body armor, helmets, the works."

"Shit."

"There's more."

"There's more?"

"I saw what looks to be some sort of indirect fire weapon, possibly mortars. At least a few of them."

Dixon exhaled audibly. "They've got us in a world of hurt then."

This was their worst nightmare come true. Dixon, and by extension Landry, had begged, pleaded and twisted arms to get a larger force for the tiny, isolated outpost. For years the SGC and the nations of the IOA had been playing the military game on the cheap, due to a number of factors: economics, secrecy, take your pick. Now that policy, one that had worked out alright in the past, was blowing up in their collective faces.

"Sir, we're receiving message traffic in the open on all frequencies." With that the Airman turned up the speakers on the radio set. Dixon walked over and listened to the broadcast.

"_This is Captain Leonie Hafoka of the Colonial Marine Corps. Under the authority of the government of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, you are ordered to lay down your weapons and surrender. Failure to comply with this lawful order will be met with deadly force. You are surrounded by units of the Colonial Marine Corps. Acknowledge this order immediately and comply. Over."_

Dixon looked to Harper, who just shrugged, almost nervously. "Who the fuck is the Twelve Colonies of Kobol? I've been with the SGC for years and I've never heard of them."

**Taurus Assault ship**

**Low Orbit**

"Colonel, reports from ground-side units. All units are in position and a perimeter has been established. Calls for the outpost's surrender have been made but so far no response has been forthcoming." The lead technician paused as he placed a hand over his ear piece. "Ship to shore RETRANS sites are up and running and mortar platoons signal they're ready to begin fire missions. Gunships are orbiting the target. Mudskipper Squadron reports no surface-to-air DRADIS emissions or incoming fire. We control the skies."

"Has the enemy engaged our forces on the ground yet?" The colonel asked.

The technician shook his head in the negative, "Negative Sir, so far no reports of our units coming under fire, either direct or indirect."

Colonel Carthan nodded in satisfaction, they controlled local space and airspace on the planet and their troops completely encircled the enemy base camp, "Very good."

The technician frowned again as he listened to something intently from his earpiece. "Message relayed to Headquarters Company from Alpha One Actual. Alpha Company has secured three prisoners while en route to their objective. Two enemy combatants and what appears to be some sort of scientist. They're being sent to the rear for holding until they can be transferred to an interrogation team."

The Colonel grinned at that news. With prisoners from the base camp they could get real time actionable intelligence on just who they were dealing with, troop numbers, weapons, capabilities and just how to handle them effectively. This was an unexpected boon for the operation.

Dr. Cyrus stepped forward with a worried expression on his face. "Colonel, did I just hear that we took prisoners? Did you find anything valuable on them?"

The Colonel suppressed a scowl of frustration but answered in the crisp and professional manner of a Marine officer. "You did hear correctly, Doctor. They're being moved to Alpha's landing zone to await pickup. Nothing mentioned about valuables. The quicker we get down there, deploy our payload and get them on board the quicker we can get what we need from them and end this standoff favorably."

Cyrus frowned at that. He knew that the military didn't really understand the value of securing artifacts. "Do we know who they are and where they're from?" Cyrus asked with a hint of doubt showing through his features.

The Colonel raised an eyebrow at that then turned to share a look with the lead technician who shook his head in the negative.

"None," the Colonel answered. "Which in my book puts them firmly in the illegal enemy combatant camp, just as we thought. I know about the wild theories put forth during the big briefing on _Galactica_ about these people possibly being from another world other than the Colonies. I personally don't buy it and neither do my men and women. There has been nothing on exotic clothing or weapons or any other that sci-fi fantasy equine-shit to suggest they're not from the Colonies. So they'll be treated as if they are from the Colonies until we learn different. Personally, I'm not holding my breath."

Cyrus scowled at that. Of course, why should he have expected anything different from Marines? Still, he didn't buy any of that crap either from Baltar about people from other worlds and such. His concerns were solely the treasures on Kobol and their preservation. Any destruction or theft would mean a major loss for the Colonial heritage and create potentially unbridgeable gaps of knowledge for archaeologists and historians. However, the good doctor's tirade aboard _Galactica_ did succeed in raising a small speck of doubt. "All the same I need to get down there Colonel. My escort is at the landing site where Alpha Company landed. Let me go with the interrogation team to give my assessment."

The Colonel frowned at that. "Doctor, it's really not a good idea to let you go down there until we've wrapped up this situation. Then when the area is secure we can let you have complete run of the camp without fear of incident."

"I understand that Colonel. But something is telling me I've got to be down there. I know to hang back away from the front lines. You've lost nothing by letting me go down. And Commander Adama wants me on the ground as soon as possible."

The Colonel barely suppressed his annoyance at the archeologist for bringing up what was obviously a sore point for him before sighing in acceptance. "Fine, you can go. We're about to start landing procedures anyway. So hurry up and link up with the interrogation team. You'll be going in AWVs; up-armored gun-trucks, alone to the pickup site. I can't afford to spare you a landram as they're tasked to support the main ground operation."

Cyrus nodded. "I understand Colonel."

"Then you best hurry, Doctor. And be careful down there."

Cyrus nodded and headed aft to his ride. The Colonel nodded to the fleet major in charge of the assault ship and nodded. "Take us down Major. Commence landing."

"Aye, Colonel."

The engines of the Taurus Assault Ship flared to life as the ship orientated itself towards Kobol to deliver its payload.

**SGC Forward Operating Base**

"_I repeat, this is Captain Leonie Hafoka of the Colonial Marine Corps. Under the authority of the government of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, you are ordered to lay down your weapons and surrender. Failure to comply will be met with deadly force. Acknowledge this order and comply immediately."_

Colonel Dixon had to admit it, the captain on the radio sounded serious and intent on backing up her threats. The voice and its tenor over the radio told him that; Dixon was well-versed in the 'command voice' and could project it well himself. Dixon took a moment to debate how to respond as he looked around BDOC. The faces looking at him in anticipation were those of men whose lives were in his hands and those lives depended on his response to the captain's threats. But at the end of the day, his duty as commander mattered the most.

Dixon keyed his mike. "This is Colonel David Dixon of the United States Air Force. Be advised that we are a peaceful mission of exploration and scientific research operating under the authority of the governments of Earth and the International Oversight Advisory. We have no knowledge of the 'Twelve Colonies of Kobol' but would be open to peaceful dialogue. Be advised however that we will defend ourselves if attacked. Please respond."

At Alpha Company's position, Captain Hafoka could barely contain her annoyance and rage. She turned to her first sergeant. "Of all the cover stories to come up with, the best these grave robbing fraks could come up with is the Thirteenth Tribe? Please!" Her NCO merely shrugged his shoulders in annoyance as well. Hafoka answered.

For Dixon, this gave whole new meaning to the old saying 'Exactly what planet do you live on anyway?'. It wasn't as funny this time around. _"This is Captain Hafoka to the individual calling himself 'Colonel Dixon'. Attempting to deceive us by claiming to be the Thirteenth Tribe will not work. You will order your people to disarm and exit the compound or we will be forced to respond."_

"Thirteenth Tribe? Exactly what is this bitch talking about?" Dixon was honestly confused; in all of his time at the SGC, he'd never once heard Earth or humanity referred to in that way. Things were going downhill quickly in what was obviously a First Contact gone wrong and apparently a case of mistaken identity. He took a moment to reassess his situation. Obviously these 'Colonial Marines' thought he and his people were something they were not. Maybe criminals, illegal squatters or something along those lines but one thing that was obvious was that they weren't all that interested in talking. Outgunned, Dixon came to the quick conclusion that the only way out was to get them to do exactly that.

"This is Colonel Dixon to Captain Hafoka. Please be advised that we have no knowledge of what you refer to as a "Thirteenth Tribe". I state again that we are a peaceful scientific mission operating under the jurisdiction of the governments of Earth. We have no hostile intentions and would like to open a dialogue but be advised, we will defend ourselves if attacked."

**Marine Strike Force**

The Taurus Class Assault Ship penetrated the atmosphere with a thunderous roar that that no one could have missed for miles in any direction to the joy of some and the growing worry of others. Inside the ship's reinforced armor plated hull, designed to shrug out ground to orbit weapons, dozens of Marines in their combat vehicles waited nervously for the go order inside revved up Landram Mark IIs, while a smaller team of Marines and one nervous doctor waited in their armored wheeled vehicle gun-trucks. The ship descended more smoothly than its blocky form would suggest. Escorted by a flight of Vipers from _Heroic_ as she made her way in, with guns traversing left and right and ECM suites pushed to maximum the 'Dragon Wagon' sailed unmolested from low orbit to its landing zone within a matter of minutes. The Assault Ship hovered briefly over its targeted landing zone to orientate itself for the best landing position before finally settling down with a heavy thud that could be felt throughout from stem to stern. Immediately heavy airlocks cycled open and ramps descended till they met the soft dirt of Kobol. From those ramps deployed the Landram Mark IIs of Daggit Troop in a single-file line under the cover of the assault ship's heavy kinetic cannons until all fourteen combat vehicles were deployed on the ground. The troop's three support vehicles pulled off to the side to make way for a smaller group of four lightly armored gun-trucks.

As soon as the vehicles successfully transitioned from ship to shore two platoons from Beta Company broke from their cover and concealment to linkup with the Landrams and the armored gun trucks with most of the men going toward the Landrams and one squad moving to augment the security detail for the gun trucks. As soon as all personnel were loaded the vehicles moved off with cautious haste.

"_All units this is Daggit One Actual, be advised Daggit Troop is on the ground. We are loading up augmentee elements from Beta Company at this time. Once we finish loading we will push off to our assigned sectors. Daggit One Actual, out."_

The loading of the augment elements finished up shortly after the commander's announcement and within seconds the vehicles of Daggit Troop were on the move. Shortly after disappearing from sight the convoy of AMVs charged and readied their weapons, then pushed off shortly afterwards intent on their own mission.

"How you doing back there, Doc?" The lead officer for the interrogation team, a Marine major, asked from the front side passenger seat. In the back seat behind him and sweating profusely either from the heat or from nervousness was Dr. Cyrus.

"I'm fine back here Major," the Doctor assured. "It's just that I didn't expect to face an enemy army waiting to make off with some valuable relics."

The Major turned back partially to view his passenger and nodded. "Don't worry Doc; we'll be there before you know it. I doubt we'll have to worry about running into enemy combatants this far out."

Nevertheless, the Marines in the convoy didn't let their guard down. Gunners communicated with their vehicle commanders as they scanned their assigned sectors. Marines along for the ride scanned out their windows almost eagerly for any view of the enemy. It was all efficient, crisp and very terse time in the convoy. No idle chitchat was heard over the comm net as each Marine knew to keep the net clear so they could monitor their own battle space as well as that of the overall situation. Occasionally the troops in the convoy would catch snippets of valuable information passed over the net; with units from each company linking up with units from other companies as the perimeter around the target was slowly established.

And inside the AMV Doctor Cyrus heard it all, without uttering a sound as the convoy cautiously proceeded to its destination.

**Battlestar Galactica**

"Commander Adama, Relay from _Heroic_. Daggit Troop is on the ground and is moving to support our forces establishing their outer cordon." Dualla responded from her post.

"Anything on hostile actions taken by the unknowns on Kobol?" Adama asked.

Dualla shook her head, "Negative sir. Reports are that our forces have complete control of local airspace. Ground forces have established a perimeter around the base camp. No shots have been fired yet. No casualties sustained."

Both Tigh and Adama shared a frown at that. Predictably, Tigh was the one to give voice to what they were both thinking "No attempt at escape? No shots fired? You'd think a rogue force would be throwing everything they have at them by now."

"They'd be smashed flat and they know it," Adama countered.

"With the kind of men who'd be crazy enough to sign up for something like this? That wouldn't make a damn bit of difference, Bill. Self preservation doesn't really factor into it with these guys. It's all about big risks and big money. If you're crazy enough to pull this kind of stunt you have to figure you're gonna run into the law or the Fleet eventually. We see it all the time back home with pirates and smugglers engaging Fleet units. They'd rather go out in a blaze of glory than rot in a prison cell."

Adama's frown deepened. "Unless they're operating under similar rules of engagement we are," he put forth thoughtfully.

Tigh scowled, "Why should they? It won't make one bit of difference when we get home. Either way they're looking at life in prison or in a penal colony. They didn't engage the Vipers conducting SEAD missions nor try to repulse the initial landings. They haven't tried to withdraw or try to negotiate a surrender that doesn't involve them going home in shackles. Whoever's in charge, for a pirate commander, this guy isn't very bright. Thank the Gods!"

Adama had to agree on that point which only heightened his apprehension further, though he knew not why. By all accounts, the mission was moving along better than they could have hoped for, so why this feeling of apprehension? Why this feeling they were heading for one major frak-up? He couldn't explain it. Tigh knew as he did that this would never see the light of day. An illegal smuggling operation of this magnitude, on Kobol, right under the government's nose would be a major political embarrassment to the Adar Administration. Added to the fact that whoever was down there had violated the Cimtar Accords in a _major_ way by going beyond the Red Line without the federal government's permission, thus making it a national security issue; practically guaranteeing it would never be made public. The men responsible for it would be rounded up and dealt with in secret military tribunals and not public courts. For all intents and purposes, they would be erased from existence. Not even the Inter-Colonial Court on Libris could help them. And those men down there had to know it too. So whether they fired a shot or not the resulting prison sentence handed down by a military tribunal wouldn't be in their favor by any stretch of the word.

So why not make a fight of it? Why not try and hold the historical treasures of Kobol hostage and try to cut a deal? If you're gutsy enough to brave uncharted space and possible encounters with the Cylons then you're just gutsy enough to take on Marines and the Battlestar Group that brought them. But whoever was down there wasn't making a fight of it. Their inaction made no sense. And that worried Adama.

"Sir I couldn't help but overhear," Lieutenant Gaeta added. "There is something else to consider as well."

Tigh looked like he was ready to blow a gasket at the junior officer for interrupting but Adama motioned for him to elaborate. He preferred when his officers spoke their minds. Sometimes they could give you valuable insights you otherwise hadn't considered.

"Well, sir, it just doesn't make sense to me. Not making a fight of it. Whoever is sponsoring this operation isn't going to want their names brought into the limelight. The list of people who could pull off something like this is small. And they usually have deep pockets and a long reach. What would stop such a person from having anyone in their employ eliminated before they could give up something?"

Tigh looked skeptical, "That's a bit of a reach. There is an estimated sixty to seventy people down there. No way could you get to them all before one of them gave something up."

"You wouldn't need to sir." Gaeta insisted. "Chances are most of them down there wouldn't know who hired them. It may only be a few individuals who actually know anything of worth. The rest may not know anything."

"Someone would talk then," Tigh said.

"What about their families back home?" Gaeta countered.

"No way is someone stupid enough to whack that many families and not expect someone to connect the dots," Tigh groused.

Adama sighed. They were getting off track; going into areas of wild speculation to try to make sense of a situation that was growing stranger by the minute. They needed to focus.

"Speculation is pointless at this point in time gentlemen," Adama said quietly but firmly. "We can interrogate whoever is down there later. Right now let's focus on ending this situation with a minimal of bloodshed."

"Aye sir," Both Gaeta and Tigh acknowledged. Gaeta went back to monitoring his station while Tigh made his rounds of the personnel in the pit.

Adama's eyes returned to the DRADIS display above the main table as he studied the read outs of the various ships and fighters moving in a well executed fashion. At some point his mind drifted onto the subject of the _Orion_. He was reminded by something that Dr. Cyrus had mentioned about the ship's shady crew and its questionable past. If they hadn't been lucky enough to spot the base camp and had just simply jumped in what would the _Orion_ have done? There was no way to tell. The ship was safely hidden at their fall back point at the edge of the system under the protective cover of the _Perseus_. If the _Orion_ tried anything funny, the _Perseus, _the _Galactica_ or any of the gunstars could easily take care of it.

"Dee, are you picking up any chatter at all? Ship to shore transmissions of any kind emanating from the fleet?" Adama asked.

Dualla took a moment to check her boards before facing the commander and shaking her head in the negative.

Tigh moved closer to Adama's side and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Think the _Orion_ might be their pickup ship?"

"The thought had occurred to me," Adama responded evenly. "She's certainly equipped to handle an operation like this."

"There's no way they're going to be able to pull something off under our noses, Bill."

Adama nodded. "I know."

"So why the worry?"

At this Adama's featured hardened. "I don't know."

Before Tigh could respond Dualla interjected, "Sir, relay from _Heroic_. The perimeter has been fully established. Daggit Troop is at the jump-off point. All units are awaiting the go order."

Adama nodded absently as he scanned over a map overview of the target. "Any word yet from Captain Adama?"

"Nothing sir."

"Keep me posted."

"Aye, sir," Dualla went back to intently monitoring her boards.

"So what do we do now?" Tigh groused irritably.

Adama smirked knowingly. His friend's near mythic impatience was well known to anyone who had ever served with him. "Now we wait. The ball's in play, let's see what the other side does."

**Stargate Command**

Since the frantic call from PXG-147, the SGC had started doing what it had always done best: crisis management. Each section at the SGC began following their checklists, the literal bibles of the US military as Landry began coordinating a response in the hopes of at the least extracting Dixon and his people. Men and woman were working the phones, recalling staff that had left as the command's leadership worked on contingency plans. Colonel Henson, the operations chief, entered the conference room as Landry put down a phone receiver and wiped his brow. Colonel Glyndon was on another phone in the corner with a stony countenance.

"What have you got Colonel?"

"I've spoken with Colonel Green at Carson. The Seventh Rangers have put their alert company on standby. They'll be ready in about one hour and their ops staff is already en-route to here. They can have a second company ready in four hours and the third will take longer as they were on their down cycle. I have 27 teams on home station status at the moment including the Brits, Russians and French and we're recalling them all. I also have those 50 SF troops who were supposed to deploy there in a couple of days and they've got a heavier-than-normal weapons package with them. So, we can put together a good sized strike package if we get the go for an extraction." Ever the aggressive fighter pilot that he'd always be, he wanted to go _now_.

"Alright, I have a teleconference with the Pentagon in five minutes. They're rushing the SECDEF and General Maynard over and I've gotten some calls from the NSC. Glyndon's on with them now. They'll probably brief the President soon. I'm going to recommend we prep the _Prometheus_ and the _Odyssey_ for a deployment and have Green's people start planning a recon through the gate."

"General, they may not last that long."

Landry put up a hand as if to slow Henson down. "I know, Bob. But I also don't have the same discretion Hammond used to have. They gave him a nice long leash and they've reined it in as you know. The IOA won't let us run and gun like they did six or seven years ago. We're not leaving them and we'll get them back."

Before Henson could respond, Carter walked into the room with a small handful of papers and a determined look that Landry had seen before. "Sir, I may have an option for contacting Colonel Dixon and his teams."

"All ears, Colonel."

"We can dramatically increase the power output on our communications nodes by…"

"Colonel, stop right there. I have a feeling this is about to get really technical. Can you put us in contact with our people and can it be done safely?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you believe it'll work?"

"Yes!"

"Do it. And let's hope Dixon is all ears as well."

**Marine Strike Force**

"_Unidentified vehicle, you are approaching the outskirts of my perimeter. Identify yourself, immediately!"_ the NCO on the radio barked. Lee had to give the guy credit; he certainly sounded fierce and more than ready to make due on his threat even though it was probably a Colonial Marine unit on approach. A Colonial Marine sniper and his spotter along with the senior NCO on site were hidden behind a small outcropping of rocks less than a hundred and fifty meters from their landing point, at the very edge of their perimeter, the rest of the squad was spread out, while Lee remained with the three prisoners and a small security detail.

Lee could hear the challenge and the friendly reply of a friendly incoming unit before he pulled off the headset linking him into the battalion net. In the time since they had landed camouflage netting had been erected over the Raptors to hide them from view. The command Raptor had been converted into a makeshift Tactical Operations Center while the Raptor next to it held their prize captives.

Lee listened in on the radio chatter for a few seconds then dismissed it and returned his attention to the three men in front of him. His two Marines guards just outside the Raptor kept their weapons at the ready; fingers lightly caressing the triggers as they shot venomous glares at both the Fleet Captain and the three prisoners. Although these particular Marines had not assaulted their prisoners, neither had they intervened when their buddies did, and the Articles of War were clear on the matter. They had disobeyed a direct order from the fleet commander and the Articles of War that dealt with detaining and questioning personnel of interest. Lee had no doubt that in any normal situation these Marines might have acted with greater care. But since they had arrived on Kobol, Lee could see the Marines were charged in a way that could prove dangerous. Since the fleet's arrival small cracks in discipline had popped up here and there but had been mostly dismissed as simple exuberance. With all the pent-up frustration of the past two months and the sheer excitement that even the word Kobol seemed to generate, things were starting to get dangerously out of hand. Discipline was slipping and professionalism was thrown by the way side. Firefly's little stunt had been the worst infraction since their arrival which had permanently grounded him. Had Boomer not intervened when she did there's no telling how much damage Firefly could have done. Now it was the Marines beating up on detainees. The heightened tension, the disregard for discipline and professionalism and the abuse of detainees, Lee saw them as bad omens of things to come.

The convoy had arrived and with it his package, which presented Lee with a bit of a dilemma. So far he hadn't gotten much out of the detainees other than name, rank and serial numbers and a few other basic snippets of information that made absolutely no sense whatsoever. They were a team who had apparently been together for a while judging by the way they looked out for each other in a way a real unit would look after one another. Not something one would expect from a band of mercenaries where loyalty was to your paycheck first and foremost. The Marines had done a real number on them, particularly the scientist, perhaps sensing he was the one more likely to crack and give them the answers they wanted. His friends had attempted to come to his aid only to be roughed up themselves by the increasingly fanatical Marines, but it had worked in diverting their attention away from the doctor and towards them. It seemed to have the opposite effect the Marines intended as all three had clammed up and had not spoken a word since.

Since he had taken command of the situation Lee had tried a more reasonable approach in the hopes to assure them that they would not receive such treatment again. But unfortunately he wasn't making much headway as his captives regarded him with suspicion and wariness, but not hostility. He was hoping that was something he could work with. Gain their confidence bit by bit, appear reasonable, but ultimately leave no doubt he was in charge. That fact seemed to be slowly sinking in, but they still weren't talking and he was running out of time.

"Look, this isn't going to look good for you when we get back to the Colonies. Who hired you? What are you doing on Kobol? How long have you been here?"

The two soldiers exchanged glances then cast a concerned look over their companion but didn't say anything. They avoided eye contact with Lee for the most part, simply studying their surroundings with great care as if cataloguing everything for future reference, in particular where their weapons and gear was stashed. Lee had examined their gear after he had separated the prisoners from their Marine captors. Their equipment had a familiar yet alien feel to it that was disorientating. On the one hand, it definitely looked like something that would be produced in the Colonies. The carbines of the two soldiers in particular bore strong similarities to Carbine Leo-Brava's. Yet at the same time there were differences in the gas operating system, rail system and optics that he had never seen before. The caliber of the weapon, a 5.56mm round, was also smaller than anything he had ever seen. Not since the Cylon War had Colonial arms companies produced such a small caliber round. It would have almost no effect against Cylon Centurions and would be marginally effective against Colonial Marine body armor. The light pistol carried by the doctor was like nothing he had ever seen and probably ever would see. The light weapon had produced snickers of derision from the Marines who had examined it. Lee had to agree with them on that point. The 9mm round was too light to even to hurt someone in body armor let alone the armor of a Cylon Centurion. The weapon was ineffective to say the least.

And from there, the inconsistencies only mounted. Their body armor consisted of two plates of a ceramic material and a thin flexible sheet of ceramic polymer. While interesting in of itself, it was lighter than anything a military or paramilitary organization would allow its troops to wear. Communications equipment didn't match anything he had ever seen or heard about from the Colonies. The uniforms, a camouflage pattern of greens and browns, were like nothing ever utilized, even by militia or paramilitary groups. And the patches on their uniform were completely unfamiliar. When they spoke, as briefly as they did, Lee initially placed their accents as from Caprica and Picon, and yet….it didn't quite _feel_ right. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. He needed answers and he was sure the three in front of him had them. But their silence was not helping matters.

Lee sighed, "Look, I want to help you. But you got to give me something. The more you cooperate, the better things will be for you once we get back to the Colonies." The two soldiers once again shared glances only this time their glances were tinged with confusion. The scientist was simply staring at him aghast.

Lee sat down opposite of them and looked to each of them earnestly. "What the Marines did to you was uncalled for. A complete violation of the Articles of War as lay down by the Admiralty. There is no excuse for their behavior. But at the same time, you three have to understand the kind of trouble you're in. An illegal smuggling operation on the home-world of the Gods…." Lee trailed off for dramatic effect, which made the scientist twitch nervously "The courts back home are going to eat you alive for that. Unless you cooperate and give me something."

Balinski finally snapped. He wasn't a soldier and he had never been trained to resist torture or interrogation. "What the hell are you talking about!"

"Doc, no!" Wade snapped.

"We're here on a mission of exploration! What smuggling operation, what Colonies! I don't even know what you're talking about!" Balinski blurted out.

Lee looked to the man skeptically "The Twelve Colonies of Kobol, You seriously expect me to believe that you don't know about the Colonies?" Lee said evenly as he studied their faces intently. Three blank looks were all he got.

"No!"

Lee knotted his brow, the anger and frustration in the scientist boiling into his words, making his accent even thicker and even less like anything Lee had heard before.

"Come on, what do you want me to believe? That you were born here? Children of the Gods?" He snorted in derision.

"Whatever the fuck you think we are, we aren't!" The scientist yelled harshly as he unleashed his pent up emotions. "So why don't you tell your apes to let us go!"

Lee kept an even face as his mind clicked. Fuck? Not frak? Was this some type of new slang he had never heard? And what was an ape?

"God dammit doc, just shut up!" Wade hissed.

Not Gods dammit, Lee noted. Monotheists did exist on the Colonies but they were few and far between despite the discredit of the Monad Church, almost unknown since the war. These guys could have been a Monotheist community that fled the Colonies before the war, but these buildings were new. Or their benefactors thought it'd be better to use monotheists because they'd be looking for better lives. But then the benefactors would have to spend a lot of money and time searching for and rounding up the monotheists. It made no sense.

"You want me to just let you go?" Lee prompted. "Do you have any idea what your being here means?"

"We're not a threat, we'll be happy to open a dialogue; it's why we're here!" Balinski enthused. "There is no need for this."

"By your command, right?" Lee recited sarcastically then stepped back. The three prisoners blinked in confusion then sighed collectively, not the reaction Lee expected.

Those three words were ingrained in the Colonial consciousness, they were just about the worst thing any human could say, a curse that revolted and appalled civilized society. The epithet of the Cylons. These guys didn't even register it, not a flicker; they didn't spot the reference at all. If they didn't know the most obvious of Cylon trademarks where had they been all their lives?

"Captain Adama, sir." A Marine called from behind him. Lee turned to face the Marine who simply motioned with his head.

Lee barely suppressed an angry retort but he knew the Marine wouldn't bother him unless it was important. "Excuse me for a moment." He stood and exited the Raptor. Standing off the side was the Marine and another man who clearly screamed civilian with his dreadlocks.

"Dr. Cyrus I presume?" Lee asked cautiously.

"That's correct. Captain?"

"Adama, Captain Lee Adama," Lee replied tersely.

Cyrus frowned slightly, "Any relation to the fleet commander?"

Lee nodded stiffly. He hated how this subject always came up. "He's my father."

Cyrus blinked before responding, "I see." He cleared his throat as if clearing it of something uncomfortable. "I couldn't help but overhear some of your interrogation, Captain. And I must admit I find some of what they said to be a bit unbelievable."

Lee nodded, "I know."

"They speak Caprican which alone cast serious doubt onto anything they say."

Lee nodded again but responded with a guarded expression, "The thought had occurred to me."

Cyrus pressed on, "If these people were from another world you would expect them to be speaking a dialect of Proto-Kobolese or at least something strongly rooted in the old Kobolian tongues. We settled the Colonies two thousand years ago and since then, each of the Colonies developed its own dialect and language. That's just two thousand years. The Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol about four thousand years ago and now they're speaking a language so similar to ours it's virtually identical?" Cyrus shook his head emphatically. "Unless you believed in divine intervention it's just not possible. They're trying to play you."

Lee frowned in consideration as he weighed the facts in his mind. They seemed to honestly not realize the kind of trouble they were in, or to have any knowledge of the Colonies. On top of that were their strange weapons and equipment; so similar to what he was familiar with yet so different at the same time. They acted like a team of professionals who looked out for one another, not mercenaries out to make big money. But the Doctor also had a point. They spoke Caprican. That much he had established in the brief exchange. It made Lee uneasy.

"Where is the officer in charge of the interrogation team?" Lee asked.

"He is talking with his superiors on the radio. They want to know a lot of things about the camp, its people, their capabilities and their intent," Cyrus answered.

"Do you know anything about weapons or military equipment?" Lee asked.

Cyrus shook his head. "I have never been a big fan of the military, Captain Adama. I only know enough to do my work in the field."

Lee related what he had observed about their gear and weapons and why it was significant. He also went over in fine detail everything he had observed during their interrogation. At the end of it, Cyrus looked cautious yet thoughtful.

"I admit it's intriguing," Cyrus allowed. "Parallel evolution of societies within the Colonies is a favorite subject of mine and a strong point of debate within the archeology community. That a society could share almost identical characteristics right down to pottery, tools and even weapons has led to a lot of heated discussions. A point for it is the similarities between the societies of the Virgon and Leonian Empires. Usually, when societies are similar, it's due to external influences, like with Virgon and Caprica. But social similarities cropping up in independent development?" Cyrus shook his head, his tied-back dreadlocks swinging. "It's a fascinating subject, how two societies worlds apart can be almost identical in many ways."

"It's confusing is what it is, Dr. Cyrus." Lee said in frustration. "When they said they didn't know of the Colonies…I don't know…I believed them!"

Cyrus said nothing.

"Would you consider joining me then as I talked to our guests? Because once we turn them over to the interrogation team, we won't get a chance to talk with them again," Lee asked.

Cyrus tossed a questioning look at the young Captain. "I'm not exactly sure what you want to accomplish with me there, Captain Adama."

"You're the closest thing to a specialist we've got, Doctor. It's your specialty to spot things that might slip anyone else's notice. Just sit back and observe and if something jumps out at you, feel free to speak up."

Cyrus sighed "All right."

**Stargate Command**

Landry looked to Chief Master Sergeant Harriman, who'd taken over the control room duties and then to Carter, who nodded. "We're ready General."

Landry merely nodded and activated the mike. "This is Sierra Gulf Charlie One to Sierra Gulf Charlie One Three, do you read?"

At the Colonial landing site, Lee faced the three captives and was having an even harder time trying to read them. Things were not going well and not of it added up. He looked to Cyrus, who it appeared, was playing things over in his mind before reengaging with the prisoners.

_"This is Sierra Gulf Charlie One to Sierra Gulf Charlie One Three, do you read?"_

Lee spun around quickly to the sound, which came from the small portable table on which the prisoner's weapons and equipment laid. Lee wasn't sure what he heard but he could have sworn...

_"This is Sierra Gulf Charlie One to Sierra Gulf Charlie One Three, do you read?"_

Adama's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as realized where the mysterious voice had originated from and he turned back quickly to the three, who were doing their best to hide any sign of recognition. But it was there, Lee saw it.

Hope.

He carefully picked up the small communications device, which wasn't like the portable radios he was used to in the Colonies and examined it. There was some unfamiliar script upon it but he thought he made out a word on the side that made little sense. 'Motorola'.

_"This is Sierra Gulf Charlie One to Sierra Gulf Charlie One Three, do you copy?"_

Lee carefully looked and found what he thought was activation switch. Life was full of risks and he knew he had to take one.

"This is Captain Lee Adama of the Colonial Fleet. To whom am I speaking?"

_ "This is Major General Hank Landry of the United States Air Force, commander of Stargate Command. May I ask how you came to be speaking on this frequency?"_

Lee swallowed heavily as his tried to calm his sudden bout of nerves, "General Landry, currently in our custody are two soldiers and one civilian scientist. I am speaking to you through one of their communications devices we confiscated."

"_And under whose authority did you detain my people, Captain?"_ General Landry asked coolly.

"Under the authority granted to the fleet commander by the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Your people were caught operating an illegal smuggling and grave robbing mission on the home-world of the Gods. If you and your people surrender, I can assure you that you will receive a fair trial once we return to the Colonies," Lee responded.

Back at the SGC General Landry and Colonel Carter blinked as did everyone else in the control room. No one uttered a comment or made a sound. The entire control room was deathly quiet.

"Colonel Carter," Landry spoke up bringing the attention of the blonde colonel to the General, "I'm familiar with most of the powers that Stargate Command has had dealings with in its history. But I am not familiar with any entity called the 'Twelve Colonies of Kobol'. Does it ring a bell to you?"

Carter shook her head in the negative. "No sir, I've never heard of them. But whoever they are, they seem to think they know who we are, but we don't have enough information to make that call."

By that time, Colonel Glyndon and an Army captain from the intelligence staff had entered the room. They had heard Landry's conversation with Adama and were furiously taking notes. Glyndon turned to the Army captain. "Start cross-referencing everything we have for any mention of this 'Twelve Colonies' or a 'Kobol'. Pull as many intel folks as you need and getting them working this. I'll stay on this. Go." The young captain practically ran from the room.

Landry nodded in agreement before he nodded to Harriman to once again open the channel. "Captain Adama, this is General Landry of Stargate Command. We have not now nor have we ever heard of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. We represent the United States of America, one nation among many of the planet Earth. We would be amenable to opening a dialogue with your government but under no circumstances will we tolerate our people being detained without cause."

Lee blinked in astonishment before his skepticism kicked in. Earth? That wasn't possible; there was no way that could be right. He looked to Dr. Cyrus for confirmation that he had heard the same thing only to see the doctor staring back at him with wide unblinking eyes. "Doc?" Lee prompted.

Dr. Cyrus seemed to shake himself from whatever stupor he was in. "I still stand by my original position, Captain Adama. They speak our language. Unless they can provide some form of evidence of their claim, I'm not buying it.

Balinski snorted, "Please, practically the entire galaxy speaks the same language! You guys sure wouldn't be the first civilization we've run into that spoke the same language!"

The doctor's outburst quickly grabbed the attention of both men which prompted Cyrus to speak up, "What are you talking about? What _other_ civilizations?"

"Through the stargate!"

"What exactly is a 'stargate'?" Lee asked with a carefully neutral position.

"Doc, don't say anything!" Wade snapped.

Cyrus finally stepped forward and spoke, "Look the only way we can help you is if you give us something to help you with."

"And just who the fuck are you!" Bosworth snapped.

Cyrus blinked in surprise at the pure venom in the soldier's voice. "Doctor Anthem Cyrus." He said slowly, "I am an archeologist." With those words Balinski went from guarded and wary to ease. Cyrus picked up on the sudden shift in Balinski and decided to use it.

"You talked about this 'stargate' as if we were supposed to know it. What is it?" Cyrus asked.

"Well you may not know it by that particular name; most other cultures we've encountered know it by other names." Balinski answered

Cyrus and Lee picked up on that little slip up, 'other cultures we've encountered', but decided not to press on it and instead focused on the more immediate question. "Such as?" Cyrus asked.

"Chappa'ai?" Balinski offered. He received two blank stares in return.

"Astra Porta?" That statement seemed to get a response from Cyrus who frowned in thought.

Lee noticed this and pressed Cyrus on it, "What is it?"

Cyrus shook off the wistful expression and focused on the men in front of them, either they were playing a very good coup or they were serious. He was starting to have his doubts.

"Doc, what's this 'Astra Porta' he's talking about? You seem to recognize the term," Lee noted.

Cyrus nodded absently. "Astra Porta is a term used to describe a gateway to the stars or gateway of the stars. No one seems to be able to agree on that one. The literal translation is 'star door' or…" Cyrus glanced down at Balinski. "…'star gate'." Lee frowned in disbelief as the doctor launched into his lecture, "Anyway, I was part of a study on some obscure texts the priests on Gemenon had supposedly recovered from the Exodus. In it, it states that the 'Astra Porta' was the gateway to the stars and allowed the Gods to walk the cosmos as if like giants." Cyrus frowned in thought as he continued on. "Of course it's been discounted by most of the archeological community as well as the high scholars and priests on Gemenon. Especially as they're not mentioned within the Sacred Scrolls…it's…it's not a well-known term, in fact only a handful of people have ever even heard of it. A bunch of grave robbers and tomb raiders shouldn't know it."

Lee looked skeptical, "A gateway to the stars? A… stargate? Sounds like science fiction to me."

"Exactly. The claim was just too fantastical to believe."

Lee rubbed his temples as if he had a headache coming on, "Alright, let's table that discussion for now."

"Still, if what they're saying is true…?"

"Then what we've just stumbled into is the biggest frak up in Colonial history. Yeah the thought had crossed my mind." Lee added. He picked up the Motorola and keyed the mike. "General Landry, this is Captain Adama, please come in." Static greeted him in response.

"General Landry, Come in!" Again static greeted him.

"Why is it not working?" Cyrus asked.

Lee grimaced, "The Marines must have picked up our communications and increased their jamming. We've lost comms." He tossed the radio back with the rest of the captured equipment. "We're on our own now."

**Stargate Command**

After losing communications with the man calling himself 'Captain Adama', General Landry and the senior staff had been summoned to the SGC's Operations Center and had found themselves briefing the President and National Security Council. While that was happening, Sam Carter and many others worked feverishly in the main conference room examining all the available options to rescue their beleaguered colleagues. A lot of expletives beginning with 'fuck' were flying around as was gallons of coffee. Carter shook her head in disgust and looked up from a sheet of paperwork to see Cam Mitchell sitting down.

"Any luck Sam?"

"Not much. These people are using some really good jammers. If we're going to break their jamming we need more signal strength; I'm supposed to get on a call here soon with some guys up at Hanscom who know electronic warfare better than me."

"What about.." Mitchell didn't get to finish his thought as the room came to attention as Landry and the staff entered.

"Take your seats people." Landry skipped the perfunctory. "We have our orders from the President and the NSC. We're to continue to attempt a diplomatic solution to this incident." Landry held up a hand to stop any grumbling. "Ambassador Mulhern of State will be here momentarily. Once we can re-establish contact with this 'Twelve Colonies of Kobol', she will lead the effort along with her staff to try and resolve this." Landry could see in the eyes of his people how they felt about that.

"But that isn't all we're doing. Colonel Green?"

Lt. Col. Green stood up and came to the front of the room. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we currently hold one advantage. Our two SEAL's from SG-44 hold the gate and we're going to ensure it stays that way. The Rangers are going in."

**PXG-147**

"Does that clear things up for you?" Dr. Balinski looked at the two Colonials with a look of sheer exasperation and impatience.

"This is horrible." Dr. Cyrus announced hoarsely.

"This isn't even the worst part," Lee said in a hollow voice which caused the archeologist to look sharply to him. "It's about to turn into a frakking nightmare." Lee sighed heavily as he considered what he'd just been told. Looking behind him outside the Raptor he could see even the Marines had been deeply shaken by the proclamation from the voice on the radio and the confirmation from Dr. Balinski. It was hard to believe even now, but the good doctor and more reluctantly the two soldiers Wade and Bosworth had said they could provide evidence by means of this 'Stargate'. Lee didn't really need convincing; somehow he just knew they were telling the truth. He had always been good at reading people and the earnest sincerity coming from all three of them was enough to convince him. It seemed to convince Dr. Cyrus as well, at least for the moment. Lee knew a bit about the man's history from his own studies at college, that Anthem Cyrus had been one of a growing number of rational skeptics openly critical of Colonial interpretation of history, and that he had been that way most of his adult life. The subject of Earth was particularly fascinating and mind numbing at the same time for a number of different reasons. It had brought with it tales of riotousness or wickedness depending on who told the tale. A utopia for the righteous, or a burnt out hellhole for the wicked, the stories were as varied as any could be. But in all honesty no one knew exactly why the Thirteenth Tribe had left the home-world of the Gods long before the rest of the tribes did. History only stated that they left, not the reasons why.

No one had even heard from them in nearly 3600 years, relegating them to myth and legend. Now, if what the three men in front of him were saying was true, then two of the most unlikely men in the Colonies were speaking to three of them, in the flesh, in perhaps the biggest nightmare frak-up in Colonial history.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Cyrus asked.

"What I mean, Doctor, is that we are in a standoff situation with the Thirteenth Tribe. And _we_ started it. That's an act of war no matter how you cut it," Lee answered.

"I know that, Captain Adama. So how do we stop it?"

"My father gave me two missions when he sent me down here. The first was to look after you, Doctor. The second was to take command of Alpha Company and stop the assault if it looked like things weren't right. These Marines are good troops but they're the type to shoot first and not even bother to ask questions. The kind of men and women you don't want on a mission like this."

"I doubt the Marines would listen to you anyway, Captain Adama," Dr. Cyrus said. "Marines don't listen to anyone but other Marines. As well intentioned as your father's motivations are, the Marines would rather go in hard and fast and deal with the consequences later." Though Cyrus did have to admit he found his respect for Commander Adama rising up another notch. No other 'by the book' military drone would have ever thought of something so out of the box. And glancing at the younger Adama, it seemed the man had inherited the same trait from his father. This more than anything else made Cyrus understand why Adama had been selected as the fleet commander for the expedition, and why he had selected his own son for _this_ mission.

"Then I need to get in touch with my father, somehow. You're right, Doctor. Captain Leonie Hafoka is in command of Alpha Company. She's got a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Olympus and she hates my guts. She wouldn't listen to anything I say simply because it would be coming from me."

Cyrus nodded in grim acceptance, "I know the type. A stubborn hothead; Marines are full of them."

"Ours too…" Bosworth snorted.

The five men chuckled darkly at the quip which was enough to ease the tension slightly as they found this one moment of familiarity and common ground between them. Then things turned serious again. Lee's quick mind was working in overdrive as he considered ways he could stop the assault. Almost all of them ended with him being detained by the Marines until after the assault was concluded and by then it would be too late. Suddenly an idea occurred to him and he turned to Wade and Bosworth.

"You can provide evidence that you're from Earth?" Lee asked.

"Yes," Wade answered.

"The Stargate alone would alleviate any doubts," Balinski supplied.

"Good enough for me," Lee stood to exit the Raptor, "Does your base camp have a high powered transceiver capable of reaching orbit?"

Wade and Bosworth shared a glance with each other as something unsaid passed between them before Wade answered with a cautious tone to his voice, "Yes…"

Lee nodded resolutely as he settled on his course of action.

"What are you thinking, Captain Adama?" Dr. Cyrus asked in growing fascination.

"I'm thinking if I can't go through the Marines, I need to go around them." He turned to regard the three Earth people before him "Would your commander be willing to work with me if I were to surrender myself to him and explain the situation?"

Wade and Bosworth's eyes widened in astonishment at what they just heard the plan the young captain propose. Then after recovering from their shock Bosworth nodded thoughtfully, "Possibly…Colonel Dixon is a damn good officer to work for, I'm proud to serve with him. But if he feels cornered he will hunker down and be ready for a fight."

"But will he work with me?" Lee insisted.

"You're asking a lot of the man. He has no reason to trust you and every reason to be suspicious. Stargate Command has seen such tactics before and it's made our people cautious. However if you give him the option of ending this standoff peacefully and allowing him to bring all his men and women home, alive, he may go for it," Wade answered.

Bosworth interjected, "Of course he's going to want some evidence that we are safe and sound and…" He directed a concerned glance at Wade and Balinski "…haven't been mistreated."

"I'll see what I can do about getting you medical attention," Lee assured.

"Wouldn't need it if your apes hadn't kicked us around like a football" Wade snapped. Lee blinked in confusion before he filed that away with the rest of what he had learned. He had never heard of 'football' back home.

"But is there anything else you could give me? Something else I could use to show him that I come in peace?"

"You could tell him I'm still betting on trees." Bosworth said. The others chuckled at their teams little inside joke.

"Anything else?" Lee pressed.

Wade nodded reluctantly, "Yeah…my daughter, Janet. You could tell him I want to be home to see her take her first steps. I would never talk about my daughter with anyone. We don't talk about our families with anyone outside the team, even with the others at the base camp. Our families are...well _our_ family. He'll at least take you seriously."

Lee nodded heavily as he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "That will have to do. I'll do everything in my power to stop this from mistake from continuing. I'll make sure you get home to see your daughter. Thank you both." Lee exited the Raptor with Dr. Cyrus hot on his heels. Standing outside, as shaken as the rest of the Marines around him, stood the Major leading the interrogation team.

"By the Gods…" The Major whispered, "Well that certainly throws my interrogation out of the window."

"You heard?" Lee asked already knowing the man had.

The Major nodded, "Yes, everything. I'm an expert on body language and voice inflection and I can tell you by just listening in those men believe what they're saying. So either they're insane or they're telling the truth."

"I believe them," Lee said.

The Major snorted then chuckled, "Yeah I got that impression too."

Lee turned to one of his Marine guards who were still pale and shaken. "Fetch a Corpsman and make sure those men are treated for their injuries."

"Yes sir." The Marine nodded and ran off to fetch the corpsman with noticeable enthusiasm.

Lee turned to face the Marine Major. "The safety of these men is paramount Major. I'm sure I don't need to emphasize why."

The Major smirked, "I get you Captain. You got some frakking balls on you for what you're about to do." The Major's face turned grim, "You better hurry, Captain. I've been monitoring battle chatter, Hafoka is getting very impatient, she's pushing for the assault to commence and command is backing her play. The only thing that's stopped it so far is that they haven't received word from the fleet commander, yet."

"Can you give us a lift to the front?" Lee asked.

The Major nodded. "I'll have my convoy convey you as far forward as they can go. I still have no idea how they hell you're going to get past Hafoka."

Cyrus frowned. "But you out rank her. Can't you order her to stand down?"

The Major shook his head "Afraid I can't, that's not how the chain of command works in the Marines. It's true I outrank her but I'm Marine Support Services while she's under the authority of Marine Operations Service. I operate under Marine Intelligence and my focus is strictly prisoner interrogation. I _can_ jump on the command-net and give the order. She'll say nice things to be polite to my rank and position as she pretends to give a frak then she'll just ignore it. Then command will have my ass for jumping the chain of command and interfering in their operation." He shook his head sadly. "Wish I had the authority to help you but I don't. At least I can give you a lift to where you're going."

_And pray I'm not sacrificing my career doing it_. He thought darkly.

"Then can't you radio your superiors and tell them they're making a mistake?" Cyrus pressed, unwilling to concede his point.

"I can't. I was in that staff briefing yesterday when we were told about the camp here on Kobol. I could feel the temperature drop to below freezing as everyone came to the _same_ conclusion. Even _I_ came to that same conclusion until just a few minutes ago. No one is going to believe we've kidnapped, at gunpoint, three members from a fairy tale planet. No one is going to believe we are in the wrong. They _fiercely_ believe that these are criminals and that they are the righteous sword of justice to punish them for defiling this sacred ground." The Major pointed towards the assault ship, "I tell the battalion staff what I just heard and they'll have me relieved and detained on the spot. They believe _just as fiercely_ as their men and women do. And they control _all_ the reports that get sent to the fleet commander which will shape how he views what's going on. They'll end this situation their way then sort the mess afterwards."

Cyrus looked horrified and outraged at the same time, "Are you saying they would falsify reports just to have their moment to make history!"

The Major looked disgusted at the thought, "No! Despite what you may think they are way too professional for that. At worst they'll say the 'enemy' is being stubborn and defiant and resisting their efforts by not surrendering. They'll say that because they truly believe that. And there is no way the battalion staff is going to allow Captain Adama here to send a message to his daddy because he feels their righteous cause is a mistake. That's why Captain Adama's plan is the only one with any hope of working."

"And we need to get on with that," Lee nodded and stuck his hand out. "I'll take what I can get Major. Thank you for sticking your neck out for us."

"Telemecus Meade," The Major said taking his hand in a strong but brief handshake. "That's my name. Good luck, Captain Adama." The Major nodded to his driver standing a few feet away but he couldn't quite hide the scowl on his face as he glanced at the Doctor, nor did he try to. He then nodded and motioned for Lee to follow him. Lee followed the driver and hopped into the lead AMV. Just as Lee was strapping himself in he heard the door behind him close and turned to note in mild surprise Dr. Cyrus strapping himself in.

"What?" Dr. Cyrus asked when he saw the look on Lee's face. "Aren't you supposed to be the one protecting me?"

"Doctor…I have no idea how the Thirteenth Tribe is going to react. I'm more than prepared to risk my own safety to end this standoff. I am not prepared to risk yours. Please remain here with Major Meade and our guests."

Cyrus shook his head emphatically. "I'm involved now and I'm the one most responsible for the situation we're in. _I _told Adama these were criminals we were dealing with which makes this my fault. If I can help to end this before it turns bloody…well I'm going to see this through to the end."

Lee sighed with weary acceptance. He thought about arguing his point but knew he didn't have the time.

"Just stay low and do exactly what I say, Doc. Driver, let's move out." And with those words the convoy moved pulled away from the landing zone and towards the front lines.

Captain Leonie Hafoka was growing angrier by the minute. For over an hour they had surrounded the enemy base camp and called for their immediate surrender. And for over an hour the enemy had steadfastly and stiffly refused.

"Ares Actual, Alpha One Actual; Alpha Company again requesting the go order," Leonie intoned over the battalion net.

"_Alpha One Actual, Ares Actual, still nothing new from Zeus or Galactica Actual. Just sit tight Leonie, they're going to give the go order, it's just a matter of when."_

"Acknowledged, Ares Actual," Hafoka wrenched off the earpiece and barely suppressed a growl of frustration. They should have taken those motherfrakkers down when they had the element of surprise. Now the enemy was dug in tight and more than ready for them. It was only going to make the job even bloodier. A coordinated two pronged assault; that was the plan to take down the base camp. With Constellation and Echo launching feint attacks while Daggit Troop maneuvered to draw their fire, Alpha would move swiftly to take advantage of the confusion and hopefully be knocking down the enemy's gate before they knew what happened.

To her front just past the tree line they were concealed in was an open field of fire with patches of fallen pillars and debris scattered here and there to act as make shift cover for her Marines as they bounded forward. But there was not enough cover to protect them all…not by a long shot. Either way they would lose people, even before the gunships took out the towers.

The drive toward the front line only took minutes yet to Lee Adama and Dr. Cyrus they were the longest few minutes in their lives. They monitored the command-net as they moved forward and it was immediately clear Hafoka was getting tired of the stalemate. Say what you wanted about her she was a woman of decisive action. And Lee knew any hope of trying to talk her down went up in smoke the more he listened. The woman was too focused and too eager for a fight. On top of that she hated his guts which meant the likely hood of her listening to him was about zero.

_Juno's frakking cunt!_

A shared look between him and Dr. Cyrus showed the doctor was thinking the exact same thing.

"We're here, Captain," Major Meade said as the vehicles slowed to a halt. "The front is about half a klick to the east. I'll head back and see that our guests get what medical care they need. Good luck."

Lee and Cyrus quickly dismounted the vehicle and began moving in earnest toward the front line.

"So how do you plan to get past Hafoka?" Dr. Cyrus asked.

"Simple, I can't go through her so I'll go around her," Lee said as he moved at a brisk pace through the thick brush of vegetation.

"How?"

"Any face to face confrontation with her will only end up with me getting detained, and Hafoka is looking for a reason to get me out of the way."

Cyrus nodded in agreement.

Lee continued on. "So with that in mind I'll try to use my grade and position to intimidate some of her Marines maintaining the perimeter to let me pass. Then I go and surrender myself to the Thirteenth and use their transmitter to contact my father and put an end to the assault. Simple."

Cyrus blinked. "That's your plan! That's a horrible plan."

"Well feel free to chip in, Doc! It's not like I've had time to give it a lot of thought," Lee snapped defensively.

Cyrus frowned in consideration for a moment but didn't comment. Truthfully he didn't have anything better than that.

The two quickly reached the end of the wood line. They crouched low as they bounded from cover to cover provided by the toppled ruins. In the distance Lee could clearly see the Thirteenth Tribe's base camp and the silhouettes of people manning defensive positions. And for a moment Lee felt a shiver of doubt run down his spine as he considered the daunting task set before him. But he was committed now; nothing was going to stop him from doing this.

"Halt, who's there!" a challenge was issued from the two Colonial Marines manning their position in the perimeter forward of him.

And then there were Hafoka's Marines.

"Captain Lee Adama, Colonial Fleet!"

"Step forward and be recognized…slowly and hands where I can see them!"

Cyrus glanced apprehensively at the Colonial fleet captain who stood up slowly with his hands raised. Cyrus did the same. The two Marines slowly lowered their weapons as they recognized the Fleet captain and the civilian archeologist.

"Captain Adama, sir!" One of the Marines, clearly new to the Marine Corps made to stand at attention and salute but his buddy; a junior non-commissioned officer grabbed him and yanked him back down hard then rolled his eyes.

"Frakking idiot, are you trying to get yourself killed!" The NCO snarled to his younger compatriot, who paled. The NCO then turned to his attention back to the captain "What can we do for you sir?"

"What's the situation?" Lee asked.

The NCO shrugged, "Quiet for the moment, sir. But we got 'em boxed in. They're not going anywhere."

"Good," Lee nodded resolutely to steel his resolve. "Sergeant, I need to get closer and survey the enemy's position so I can coordinate air strikes when we get the go order," Lee improvised on the spot.

The NCO shook his head fiercely, "No, sir. Captain Hafoka's orders; no one breaches perimeter without her say so. No one. If you like I can radio back and get permission then escort you myself. I don't trust numb nuts here to do it." He nodded to his fellow soldier who wilted under his glare.

"That's really not necessary I just need—" Any response was cut off when Cyrus moved forward to peer over the fallen stone wall.

"What the frak are you doing, get your ass down!" The NCO made to grab at Cyrus to yank him back down but then suddenly his head snapped with a thwack as Cyrus's right hook connected with the NCO's face. Lee gaped in astonishment as Cyrus then jumped at the startled Marine private as the two began struggling. For the moment Cyrus had the advantage due to surprise but the Marine private was swiftly rallying and starting to gain the upper hand. Cyrus took a critical moment to turn back to Lee.

"Go, Captain!"

"Doc, what the hell are you doing! Lee asked in disbelief.

"Stopping a mistake! Now lay down your weapons so the Thirteenth Tribe doesn't shoot you and just go. Stop this before it goes too far!" Lee could see the NCO groggily start to get back to his feet. "Gods Dammit man, GO!"

Lee quickly stripped off his rifle and side arm then took off at dead sprint to the camp of the Thirteenth Tribe and prayed to the Gods they didn't shoot him. He spared a look back to see Cyrus getting subdued by the Marine private and the NCO then he returned his attention forward and pressed forward intent on finishing what he started.

"Ah… Captain, we've got movement!" A Marine sniper spoke up hesitantly.

"What's the enemy doing?" Hafoka came forward.

"It's not the enemy, it's one of ours."

"What? Who?" Hafoka snapped then pulled her binoculars to her eyes, she went rigid as he features hardened and her face went completely crimson. "Tell me that _isn't_ who I think it is!" Hafoka hissed.

Her company's first sergeant who had come forward as well lowered his binoculars "Yep, one Colonial Fleet captain making a break for the enemy base camp."

"What the frak is he doing!" Hafoka growled as she lowered her binoculars.

"About to get himself shot or captured is my guess," her first sergeant grunted.

"Ma'am, I can put one well placed shot in his leg. It'll put him down but not kill him." The sniper suggested.

"We can then send in an extraction team and pull him out before the enemy gets to him and takes him hostage," her first sergeant added.

Hafoka looked eager to jump onboard with that suggestion but then sighed in frustration, "No. Hold your fire."

"Ma'am?" Her first sergeant raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want to be the one to explain to the fleet commander why you gave the order to shoot his son? I sure he'll be very understanding," Hafoka said with a hint of sarcasm. The first sergeant grimaced. "I didn't think so," Hafoka added.

"Captain?" Her Marine radio operator spoke up.

"What?" Hafoka asked.

"Ma'am, I have Alpha Two Six on the horn. He says he needs to speak to you urgently."

She motioned for the radio and put the handset up to her ear. "This is One Actual. Speak." She listened intently for a moment before snarled into the radio "Get him here, _now!_" she handed the radio back to him.

"Ma'am?" her first sergeant asked as he noted the particular look on her face.

"Guess who just assaulted two of our Marines so our wayward captain could make his mad dash to being a hostage."

A number of wide shocked eyes met hers. "You're kidding," her first sergeant asked dryly.

"Second Platoon is bringing him in now." She scanned the enemy base camp with her binoculars just in time to see a small fire team of enemy troops take Captain Adama into custody and move him into their ECP. Any slim chance they had of getting him back just went up in smoke. She sighed. She didn't particularly care for the Fleet captain, flaunting his authority and riding roughshod over her command because his daddy commanded the fleet. She'd dealt with officers like him in the past. Officers like him were always smug and self assured and completely certain that a woman couldn't do the job of leading assault troops in combat. He hit all her buttons. The wrong ones. She still she didn't want to see him hurt though, he was a fellow Colonial Officer and you didn't toss your own to the wolves. And she knew whoever took him hostage probably wouldn't treat him too kindly.

She muttered a silent prayer for him then turned back to her radio operator "Send a message back to HQ to relay to the fleet. We have a hostage situation."

"Aye ma'am," her RTO replied as he set about his task.

A few minutes later, a fire team of six Marines were escorting a visibly bruised Dr. Cyrus to the command post. They stopped a few feet from a Captain Hafoka who had a look of angry determination. She had since pushed aside her misgivings and focused on the matter at hand.

"Would you care to explain to me _why_ you assaulted two of my Marines, and why our frakking idiot of a Fleet Captain disarmed himself and then made a mad dash to the smuggler's base?" Her gaze went from fuming to murderous in under a second "And it had better be _good_."

**SGC Forward Operating Base**

Lee Adama wasn't entirely sure this was the brightest of ideas. Upon appearing at the entrance to the camp, he'd been met by the barrels and aim points of multiple automatic weapons looking for someone or something to shoot at. When questioned in the same accented speech by someone of obvious authority, he'd politely requested entrance to negotiate, as if politeness would score points in such a far gone situation. After performing a pirouette to demonstrate that he was unarmed, he'd been motioned inside the encampment only to come face-to-face with more armed soldiers who quickly and professionally patted him down, obviously not taking his guarantee of unarmed status at face value. Just as quickly and with no warning a mask of some sort was placed over his eyes, denying him any ability to gather useful intelligence during his visit. He couldn't blame them really; he'd be just as suspicious. Soon he felt himself grabbed at the arms and taken by two strong individuals on a meandering walk through the camp. Lee guessed that they were doing it purposely to deny him the chance to memorize any part of the camp's layout, or they were just frakking with him for laughs. Either way, he was at their mercy now. Soon enough he detected that he was being led indoors and was suddenly placed on a chair. Swiftly, his mask was removed and he blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the lights around the room. Judging by the layout, he was in some sort of bunker. It screamed utilitarian and military.

Lee looked up as his eyes adjusted and was met by a tall and light-skinned man looking down at him. It was fairly obvious from the man's gait and demeanor that he was military of some sort. Lee knew that without even registering the uniform he wore. The uniform was like nothing he'd ever seen, a camouflage pattern of greens and grays and over it was some sort of pouch-covered body armor with a name attached. On the armor was also what looked like a bird; Lee had no idea what that was supposed to represent, maybe rank. This whole debacle got more confusing by the minute. The man seemed to regard Lee for a moment with an admirable level of detachment, like a scientist looking over an experiment where the results were uncertain. It had an unnerving effect. The man crossed his arms and finally spoke.

"My name is Colonel David Dixon. I'm with the United States Air Force and I serve as commander of this scientific outpost. Who are you and what is your purpose?"

Lee caught his breath and measured his speech carefully. "My name is Captain Lee Adama, Colonial Fleet. I'm here to try and keep our two sides from shooting each other."

Colonel Dixon seemingly arched an eyebrow and looked none too impressed. "Really? Well Captain Adama, as it is your personnel who surrounded our base and are demanding our surrender I would say your mission is off to a rough start." Even with the combined stress of all that had transpired, Lee could detect the faint echo of a smirk on the man's face and in his tone. This Colonel Dixon apparently had a sense of humor.

"I understand that, Colonel. I believe that this is a case of mistaken identity."

"I gathered that when I spoke with your colleague Captain Hafoka. From what transpired I am of the understanding that you think we're smugglers or robbers of some sort. Is that correct?"

Lee nodded. "Yes, our best analysis was that you were some sort of private smuggling operation or rogue separatists setting up some sort of illegal colony."

Dixon exhaled and wiped his brow. Dixon was always wary of First Contact situations for this very reason. Too much could and sometimes did go wrong, leading to debacles like the one he currently found himself in. Dixon looked over at Lieutenant Commander Harper, who simply nodded and tried a weak smile. "Better to give him the full story before we're fighting them sir."

Dixon looked down at Adama and stared at him. "Captain, I'll gladly give you our full story. I've tried repeatedly to explain over the radio to your Captain Hafoka but she doesn't seem that interested. Are you?"

"That's why I'm here."

"Alright. As I told Captain Hafoka over the radio, we're a scientific and exploratory mission operating under the jurisdiction of the governments of the planet Earth and the International Oversight Advisory Council. When we established this outpost, it was our understanding that this world was uninhabited and abandoned. We've been operating here solely for scientific and archeological purposes. Your people are the first we've encountered and it wasn't our intention to encroach on anyone's sovereign territory. We have never heard of the 'Twelve Colonies' your captain spoke of. Clear enough for you?"

Lee sat still and tried valiantly to control his breathing. The Thirteenth Colony? It was unbelievable; the very history, and more importantly, the future of the Colonies was about to change, if he could fix this frakked-up situation. Lee knew he needed to respond but the weight of what he had just been told crushed him.

"Well, Captain?"

"Colonel, you say you're from Earth?"

"Yes. Why? You've heard of it before?"

Lee nodded vigorously and a smile crossed his face for the first time. "You could certainly say that. In our past history and our religious writings, it was said that our people fled from a world called Kobol, which we now believe to be the planet we're all standing on right now. At some point there was an exodus. Twelve tribes travelled together and formed our current society, the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, on twelve worlds in what we call the Cyrannus Cluster. It was said that there was a Thirteenth Tribe which left on its own and travelled to a distant world called Earth. It was thought to be a myth. If you are who you say you are, then our civilizations are long lost relatives."

It was now Dixon's turn to be practically speechless and he did an admirable job of controlling his expressions. He had never heard anything remotely like what the young captain described but it was obvious the young man believed every word of it.

"Captain, I'll grant you that I'm a military officer, not a historian or archeologist but I can tell you that I've never heard of this at all. I told Hafoka this as well. As I said earlier, we've never heard of the 'Twelve Colonies of Kobol' or anything like it. As I also told Hafoka, we'd gladly open a dialogue with your people but we will not do it at the end of a gun. Why should I believe any of this? You're holding US personnel hostage and you're threatening to attack my command." Dixon was careful to make the last part sound more like a statement of fact than an accusation.

Lee had to think quickly; he couldn't blame Dixon for being distrustful. This whole operation was unraveling quickly and was bound to get ugly. Then he remembered his conversation with Dixon's men. "Yes, we did take your men captive, Colonel. As I told you, we thought you were potential criminals. I can try and smooth this over and avoid bloodshed but I'll need your help."

"What about my men? Where are they right now and what's their condition?"

Lee grimaced internally. Just as he feared, the actions of Hafoka's Marines could and just might frak them royally. He had no choice.

"They're safe now, Colonel. They're currently being detained by our Marines; I won't lie to you they were roughed up at first. But it was their statements that led me and others to believe that this was a massive misunderstanding."

Colonel Dixon looked grim and very angry. "You have any proof that they're safe?"

"Your men were clear before I came that you would be cautious, Colonel. They told me to mention certain things to you. Sergeant Bosworth told me to tell you that he's still betting on trees." Lee shrugged in a manner of saying he had no idea what the man was referring to.

"Of course he is. Anything else?"

"Sergeant Wade asked me to bring up his daughter Janet; he really wants to see her take her first steps. He said you would know the meaning."

Lee watched the Colonel closely and thought he detected a trace of something cross the man's face. Sadness? Lee couldn't tell fully.

"Okay, Captain, you've got my attention now. So, where does that leave us? You have this camp surrounded and your people are threatening to attack. My entreaties have been ignored or refuted; so what would you have me do?"

"First, Colonel, I now have to ask, do you have any proof that what you've told me is the truth. It's one thing to claim you're from the Thirteenth Tribe, but if I'm to convince my superiors to back down I need some proof and I'm afraid your word isn't going to be enough for them. Your men mentioned something called a 'stargate'? What exactly is that?"

"Your people have never heard of a stargate?"

"No. Your men mentioned it but it sounded too outlandish to us."

"Before we get talking about the stargate, Captain, how did you and your people get here?"

"We currently have a good sized battle-group in orbit of this planet, Colonel. We came here on a scientific expedition, just like you. Some archeologists and scientists believed they had found evidence of Kobol's location and convinced the government to send an expedition. That's how we came to be here. You were the last thing we thought we would run into."

For Dixon, Adama's pronouncements were a double-edged sword. On one hand, it meant that the stargate was still a viable route for the SGC to respond and get his people out of their predicament. On the other, a fleet in orbit meant these 'Colonials' owned the skies and probably had a good amount of reinforcements and resources they could bring to bear if things went any further downhill. This Adama was probably their only way out of this mess.

"Well, here we are so what's your suggestion?"

"Do you have a communications system here capable of reaching ships in orbit?" Lee asked.

Dixon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, we do but your people are jamming all our frequencies. Why?"

"Colonel, I can give you a frequency that isn't jammed. My father is the commander of our expedition. He sent me on this mission specifically to keep an eye on things in case they went bad and I think this qualifies, don't you? If you'll let me use your system, I can contact him and have him get our Marine units to back off. Then we can take things from there. Would that work?"

Dixon weighed his options. He couldn't contact the SGC; he prayed his two SEAL's at the gate hadn't been discovered. They were cut off and these 'Colonial Marines' weren't sounding anymore accommodating. Additionally, they were heavily armed and controlled the air. Trusting the young captain facing him from the chair was the only real option Dixon had.

"Alright, give me the frequency and fill me in on exactly who I'm calling."

**Battlestar Galactica**

Commander Adama stood stock still in _Galactica_'s CIC with an equally still look frozen on his face with only Colonel Tigh willing to look him directly in the eye. This mission, which just the day before had been perceived as difficult, was now living up to its reputation. It had started well enough, with the Marine landing forces quickly surrounding the camp, but had now degenerated into a cold face-off. Now had come word that Lee had done something truly insane: surrendering himself to these unknowns for some equally unknown reason. Part of Adama's psyche wanted to rage and scream, just as Tigh had done when the Marines first up-channeled the reports, but he held his tongue. He'd always known that his son, for all his anger over Zak's death, thought differently than the average military officer. It was one of the reasons he'd sent him along with the Marines in the first place. Lee had a tendency to stop and think, latest actions not-withstanding. That thought kept him from truly raging at his son; Lee wouldn't have done it without a very good reason.

"This is frakking insane." Adama thought he heard Tigh mutter under his breath.

The Marines were screaming for action. Colonel Carthan had repeatedly requested permission to assault the camp, his argument being that the longer they delayed, the longer the squatters had to formulate a defense. It was a completely valid argument and one that even Lee's presence within the camp couldn't really blunt. The time for a decision, one Adama did not relish, was coming.

Petty Officer Dualla's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Commander? I'm receiving an incoming transmission from the surface over one of our set-aside frequencies. They're claiming to be from the enemy camp."

"Patch it to my station, Dee."

"Yes, sir."

Adama looked at Tigh, whose eyes had gone wide and who just shook his head. "I'm sorry Bill; they must have sweated it out of him."

"Doesn't matter. Listen in." With that both men picked up receivers and listened to the incoming transmission.

"_This is Colonel David Dixon of the United States Air Force calling for Commander William Adama of the Battlestar _Galactica_. Please respond. Over."_

"This is Commander William Adama of the Battlestar _Galactica_; identify yourself and your purpose."

"_Commander Adama, my name is Colonel David Dixon of the United States Air Force. I am the commanding officer of the scientific outpost that your forces currently have surrounded. My purpose is to try and end this stand-off without anyone getting hurt. I would hope you would have the same desire."_

"How exactly did you obtain this frequency Colonel? This is a restricted Colonial Fleet net."

"_Your representative, Captain Lee Adama, provided it to us in the hopes we could negotiate an end to this situation."_

Adama winced. They must have tortured Lee. Frak. Adama felt his heart tighten to a virtual knot and he let out a ragged breath as he looked to the ceiling for a quick moment. It felt like the world was closing in around him; he had one son left and he wasn't going to lose him in this backwater. "What assurances do I have that Captain Adama is safe and wasn't coerced into providing that information under duress?"

"_Currently all you have is my word as a United States military officer but I'll let you speak with him shortly. I could ask the same of you, Commander, regarding my three men captured by your Marines; I'm told their reception wasn't exactly gentle."_

Adama quickly covered the mouthpiece of his phone with his hand and looked directly at Colonel Tigh with a murderous stare. "Get on the line with Carthan right now and find out what he's talking about!"

"Yes, sir." With that, Adama put the mike back to his ear.

"Colonel Dixon, I'm not aware of the exact circumstances of your men's capture but any violations of Fleet regulations and the Articles of War will be dealt with. But now we have to deal with a bigger issue. You and your people are in violation of Colonial law and must surrender. I can promise that when you are returned to the Colonies you will be fairly treated and provided an adequate defense."

"_Commander Adama, you seem to be operating under the same misconceptions as your personnel down here on the planet. I've explained this to your son and I tried to explain this to your Captain Hafoka. We are a scientific and archeological mission duly authorized by the governments of Earth, specifically the United States of America, and the International Oversight Advisory Council. We have never heard of the 'Twelve Colonies of Kobol' or the 'Colonial Fleet'. We would be interested in opening a peaceful dialogue with you and your government but will not do so under threat of force. Any attempt to assault this outpost will be met with force."_

Anyone looking at Bill Adama at the point would have thought he'd seen a ghost, or an actual god, or anything to turn him white. His hand had a grip of death on the receiver and for what may have been the first time in his long career, he was at a loss for words. Earth? While he had joked privately with Belzen and others about it, he had never realistically thought it was possible. Even now, presented with it, parts of his mind warred within telling him it was an elaborate scam of some sort. His eyes quickly darted around the CIC and caught his people looking at him expectantly. Luckily he had been the only one listening in to the conversation save one Petty Officer Dualla. Bill looked in her direction only to find her staring at him, her hands slowly dropping almost to her sides. For a moment he thought she might faint but she caught herself, looked at her commanding officer and nodded as if to say 'I'm okay, sir".

Adama winked at her and formulated his response. "Colonel Dixon, what you are asking me to believe is quite the leap of faith. If you've told this to Captain Adama then I'm sure he's explained the significance of that assertion to you."

"_He has, Commander, but it is not an assertion. As I explained to him, although I'm not a historian or archeologist I can safely say that we've never heard of your people in our travels or anything about being a 'Thirteenth Tribe'. And as I stated, we are willing to open a dialogue with your government, but not while under duress. As a sign of good faith on our part, I'll put Captain Adama on the net now."_

"Galactica_ Actual, this is Adama."_

A large part of Bill Adama breathed easier just hearing his son's voice; as much as he was a military man he was still a father with a son in harm's way and hearing him was a vast relief. "Captain, this is _Galactica_ Actual, state your status."

"Galactica _Actual, be advised I am 'in one piece'. Over."_

Adama smiled slightly at the mention of the reference. 'In one piece' was a code phrase all Colonial pilots understood. It meant he was all right and not under duress of any kind. "Understood. Go with sitrep." That was Bill Adama's calm and professional way of asking his erstwhile son the obvious: Just what the frak were you thinking and what is going on?

"Galactica _Actual, be advised that intelligence developed leads me to believe that Colonel Dixon and his men are who they claim to be. This can be verified through the civilian scientist here planet-side."_ Lee was referring to Doctor Cyrus. _"Additionally, Colonel Dixon has offered to produce evidence of his claim in exchange for a limited pullback of Marine units from their perimeter. How copy?"_

"_Galactica _Actual copies. What intelligence are you basing this off of, Captain?"

"_Be advised, Galactica Actual, we've observed marked differences in language and cultural references. Their equipment, while similar in uses, is different from anything I've ever seen or heard of. Colonel Dixon and his men also speak of how they got here Actual. Our civilian scientist can brief you but it's radically different than anything I've ever heard of and Colonel Dixon is offering to show proof. How copy?"_

"Stand by one." Adama cut the feed and looked over to Tigh who'd walked up during the conversation and had been listening in. "What did you find out Saul?"

"Carthan confirms that a squad of Marines did rough up the three prisoners when they were captured…"

"Gods Frakkin Dammit!" All of CIC stopped in its tracks when Adama exploded.

"They've been detained. That's not the worst of it, Bill. Carthan also confirms what Lee said about Doctor Cyrus. He believes we are dealing with the Thirteenth Tribe, Gods help us."

Bill Adama's head was swimming; he was now the commander on the scene of the biggest frak-up in the history of the Colonies. This had to be cleaned up and quick before they found themselves at war with the first non-Colonial civilization they'd ever come across, not to mention it being their lost cousins. Bill almost wanted to laugh against his better instincts; the admirals thought they were sending him on a public relations milk run. With this in mind, Adama keyed the phone.

"Captain, what does Colonel Dixon have in mind…"

**SGC Forward Operating Base**

If Dixon were in any mood to laugh, he'd equate his current situation to a scene from _Gunfight at the OK Corral_. Dixon stood just within the camp's main entry control point clad fully in his individual body armor and helmet sporting his M-4 rifle with the young Captain Adama standing nearby and Doctor Coombs to his left. To either side were two of Major Whittier's Security Forces troops also fully geared up and armed. Dixon took a moment and looked up into the brilliant blue sky and took a deep breath; God how he wanted to go home. As much as he joked to his people about the monumental pain in the ass his kids could occasionally be, he'd give up his soul at that moment for the chance to see his wife and kids again. He only hoped that these 'Colonials' had their own wives and kids and wanted to see them just as much. He turned to Adama with a badly hidden nervous smirk.

"I'm taking a big risk on this one, Captain. I hope your people are as honorable as you claim." What Dixon really wanted to say was that if it went to shit, he'd put a bullet in Adama first just for setting this up.

"My father has a saying. _Sometimes you have to roll a hard six_."

"Spoken like a typical fighter jock."

"You have no idea." Lee grunted.

Dixon turned to one of the men manning the ECP and nodded. With that, the barrier was pulled aside and the four military men and one archeologist walked out of the gate and outside the perimeter. As they did, four Colonial Marines and what looked to Dixon to be a dark-skinned civilian with dreadlocks of all things walked up to them from the open field and stopped around ten feet away, scanning the area as they did. It was pretty obvious to Dixon they were professional military and were as well armed and equipped as his people. The apparent leader of the five spoke.

"Colonel Lionel Carthan, Colonial Marine Corps."

Dixon nodded but kept his hands on his rifle. "Colonel David Dixon, United States Air Force." Dixon looked to Carthan's right and saw a tough-looking young woman glaring at him. "And you would be?"

"Captain Leonie Hafoka, Colonial Marine Corps." If looks could kill, Dixon knew he'd be a charred corpse by now. And judging by the way she was glaring at Captain Adama, he'd be collateral damage. He looked at Mr. Dreadlocks.

"Doctor Anthem Cyrus." Dixon wanted to laugh looking at the man because it was obvious he was as uncomfortable around military types as many SGC scientists were. Next to him, Coombs smiled slightly.

"Doctor Simon Coombs."

Colonel Carthan grunted. "You set up a very adequate defense Colonel." For Carthan, that was praise.

Dixon shrugged and cracked what his men called his 'best shit-eating grin' while thinking the unmentionable. _Adequate enough to kill enough of your guys asshole…_ "Well you never know who might drop in Colonel."

Colonel Carthan's nostrils flared but he bit back any retort. Captain Hafoka continued to glare and sulk. _Yeah_, Dixon thought, _this is going real fucking well_.

"I've been assured by your Commander Adama that we'll have unmolested passage to show you the stargate and prove our claims. Do I have your word that you'll abide by that agreement?"

"You do. Mind you, as a professional soldier I'm rather dubious of what you're claiming but like you, I assume, I follow orders."

Dixon wasn't 'claiming' anything but he wasn't going to debate the man now. "Fair enough, Colonel. Then let's go; we'll be walking to the ruins about a short distance away." With that the small group set out following the well-worn path that the SGC personnel had travelled so much recently. Dixon took the time to scan the area as they walked and confirmed all of his suspicions. These 'Colonials' had his people surrounded. He saw a large number of dismounted infantry and what looked like some sort of armored fighting vehicle. He could only guess that he was at that moment under the watchful eye of multiple sniper scopes. As they continued on, Colonial aircraft continued to overfly the area, reminding Dixon how cut off and surrounded they were. He had no choice but to play along with his agreement with Commander Adama. Hopefully, the sheer existence of the gate would buy him and his people some credibility and get the Colonials to back off.

Soon enough the small group came to the ruins and approached the largest of them which housed the gate. Dixon noticed that the Colonials, especially Doctor Cyrus, were dumbstruck by the sights before them. He heard Colonel Carthan mutter something under his breath along the lines of "Dear Gods…" and Doctor Coombs started talking with his apparent counterpart Cyrus. Dixon cut that off with a glare at the civilian. Coombs caught his message: Stop talking!

Dixon stopped near the entrance to the massive ruin and turned towards the group. In this leap of faith, he'd have to show some of his hand. "As a warning, I have two men stationed in here guarding the gate, so please, no quick movements until I advise them of the situation. Please keep your hands in the open" The Colonial officers nodded and the group climbed the steps and entered the massive chamber. Dixon immediately saw that his two SEAL's guarding the gate had heard them coming and were in defensible positions on either side of the gate.

"Halt! Don't move! Show us your hands!"

With that the Colonials froze, the Marines slowly raising their hands to show they had no hostile intent. Dixon raised his hands and let his rifle hang in front of his body. "Easy guys, we're good to go." 'Good to go' was another hidden code phrase among SGC types, indicating to other SG teams that they weren't under duress. Dixon looked over and saw Petty Officer Gamble stand up with a near-panicked look on his face.

"Sir, you need to get'em back! The SGC's about to…" Gamble was cut off by the distinctive metal sounds of the gate starting its activation sequence. Dixon's eyes bulged and he turned quickly to the group waving his arms towards the entrance.

"We need to get the fuck back now!"

"What the frak is going on, Dixon?" Carthan screamed.

Dixon didn't immediately answer as he waved the group back. Finally he turned to Carthan. "The gate is activating; you get caught in the event horizon and you're a dead man!" He looked back as the last chevron locked in place and the horizon formed. All of the Colonials stared in shocked awe as Cyrus exclaimed, "Jupiter's cock!"

The familiar, water-like explosion of energy formed as the group fell back to a safe distance. Before Dixon could ask Gamble what was going on, fast moving figures appeared from the gate moving swiftly. Dixon could only scream.

"Oh shit!"

"US Army! Don't move!" The SGC's big stick, the 7th Ranger Battalion, had arrived.

Highly armed soldiers in digital camouflage erupted from the gate with weapons pointed at Dixon's group and were screaming commands as they fanned out among the ruins of the building. The Colonial Marines were so awestruck by the sight before them they hardly moved; even a seasoned veteran like Carthan was frozen in place. He knew he and his small group stood no chance against such a quick assault. Dixon hurriedly raised his arms. "We're secure! Hold your fire! Secure!" Dixon spun around and looked at Carthan. "Did you kill your jamming like we agreed?"

Carthan was stuttering as he stared in shock. "Y..yes. Yes!"

Dixon hurriedly keyed his mike. "SGC, this is Dixon! We're secure! Hold your assault! I say again, we're secure!"

"_Colonel Dixon, this is General Landry. Authenticate immediately!"_

"SGC! I authenticate Four Golf Delta November Seven One!" Dixon waited anxiously as more Army Rangers poured out of the gate and surrounded the area, followed by small, wheeled, remote-operated cargo carriers full of heavier ordinance. Soon enough, the entire ruined area near the gate was secured by the Rangers, who kept their weapons pointed at Dixon and the Colonials.

"_Colonel Dixon, this is Landry. We copy your authentication. Status?"_

"General, be advised. I've made contact with the leaders of the unknown force. We have an apparent case of mistaken identity. I can brief further when we have the area secure. Copy?"

"_I copy, Colonel. Be advised, the Seventh has orders to secure your compound and personnel. Can we expect resistance?"_

"Stand by one."

Dixon looked at Carthan and his group. Captain Hafoka looked ill, and truth be told, she nearly was. The realization was setting in for her; she had nearly caused a war with the Thirteenth Tribe. The greatest moment in the history of the Colonies had arrived and in her zeal to show she belonged in the Corps she'd nearly turned it into an epic tragedy. Only her professionalism and training kept her from doubling over. Colonel Carthan had recovered from his initial shock of the Rangers' rapid arrival and stood still, trying not to provoke an incident. He turned and nodded to his two junior Marines to keep them calm and professional and looked back at Dixon, who'd locked eyes on Hafoka, willing her to look him in the eye.

With a deathly calm voice, he addressed her. "Well, Captain, do you believe me now?"


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

_There are no men born ahead of their times. There are only visionaries, and there are circumstances; everything else is hindsight._

—from _Dominion: The Manifest Destiny of the Thirteen Colonies_

by Berosus Sagan, Ithacan Writer and Chief Historian

to the Court of His Most Illuminated Majesty,

Emperor Zeno, Petrus Palace

Boskirk, Virgon, the Imperial Age

_Then listen, Socrates, to a tale which, though strange, is certainly true._

—Plato, _Timaeus_

**Reston, Virginia**

On a quiet tree-lined street that could be representative of the typical American suburban existence, a young couple was finishing the last few tasks of a busy and stressful move. That the move in question was a little bit longer and a little more complicated than average was unknown to the neighbors, who had taken them at face value as another military family transferring to the area, full as it was of military facilities. After all, not many could claim their most recent mailing address was another galaxy. For Evan and Sora Lorne, the move from Spartan living at a military operating base at Atlantis to the bucolic Virginia suburbs was jarring. At least in Lorne's case, it was a matter of readjusting to old ways, namely having to cook dinner and getting to watch _ESPN_ again. For Sora, the change was starker and deeper; having grown up in a culture inculcated with constant fear of Wraith discovery and culling had led to an almost permanent state of 'survival mindset'. Everything and everyday was dedicated to ensuring you got to live another day. The simple act of being able to walk in a park or what Americans called 'malls' was an almost insurmountable challenge to her worldview and psyche.

They had spent an afternoon at the local Lowes hardware store the previous day; a trip that left Sora dumbfounded by the simple luxuries Earthers took for granted. Rows and rows of massed-produced consumer goods and families with shopping carts had initially simultaneously bewildered and amazed her. Evan had been afraid that he'd have to take her out of the store when suddenly she'd stopped in an aisle and almost looked to be hyperventilating. When he'd moved to help her she simply looked up at him and shook her head, a look Evan knew meant, _you told me but I didn't really believe it…_ Luckily for her, she had a rather understanding husband.

A faint giggle and laugh made Evan turn towards his wife from where he was piling up the last of the empty cardboard boxes in the foyer. He smiled. "What is it?"

Sora Lorne stood at the kitchen counter with a smile and a twinkle in her eye, standing over another cardboard container, this one holding the delivery pizza that had just arrived. "That's it. Earth wins."

Evan's eyebrows arched in a naturally curious way. "What do you mean by that?"

"Every time I think I have America or Earth figured out, you throw another surprise at me. Did you know you could conquer Pegasus with this?" Sora held up a slice of pepperoni and mushroom pizza. "No one has food like this. Everything there is basic and without any real taste. This is…it's unbelievable."

Part of Evan wanted to laugh at his wife's discovery of pizza, a reminder of all the things he'd yet to show her. But he held it in. The process of bringing her to Earth had been and continued to be stressful, not so much in terms of causing problems in their relationship so much as simply overwhelming her. He tried his best to mitigate the effects by not pushing things too hard and by being careful in how much he exposed her to at any one time. He was slowly discovering how tough and strong his wife truly was. There had been many a night early on in their move to Earth that he'd feared finding Sora curled in a ball and overwhelmed by it all; that fear was still there in the recesses of his mind but was slowly receding. What truly overjoyed him was when she made simple discoveries on her own, like this, and let her joy show.

Upon arriving on Earth they'd started a search for the right home in the Washington area. After looking around, they'd settled on the suburb of Reston, a popular and growing part of Fairfax County in northern Virginia, a quick commute from the Pentagon down Route 66 (depending on traffic, everything in northern Virginia depended on traffic). It was a nice house; four bedrooms, two and a half baths on a quarter acre. Perfect for a family with excellent local schools. Expensive, but with Evan having years of tax-free hazardous duty pay and no way to spend it, they had quite the nice nest egg. They had discussed having kids and were looking forward to it but that particular project could wait a couple more years. Evan would start work in General O'Neill's office the following week while his mother came down from Pennsylvania to spend time with Sora and help her adjust to life in America. She was also considering a job offer of her own, working for the highly classified Pegasus Working Group at the Defense Intelligence Agency at Joint Base Anacostia/Bolling in Washington. O'Neill had dropped her name to them upon setting up their transfer to Earth and Sora, with her knowledge of Wraith tactics and other races, would be an asset.

"You know, you don't have to worry about me so much."

His wife's statement catching him off guard, Lorne turned slowly and stared at Sora for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Sora looked down for a moment before picking up her train of thought. "I've noticed it a lot, since we got here from Atlantis. The worry, it's been all over your face anytime you think I might get overwhelmed. You've tried to shield me from it."

Evan slowly exhaled and rested his elbows on the counter and offered his wife a weak smile. "Maybe I have. You can't blame me for trying."

Sora smiled. "I'd never blame you for trying, but relax. We had a saying among our people: 'As strong as rock, as swift as the wind'. I've dealt with much worse things than trying to learn this 'internet' you showed me last night." She looked over at her husband. "I'm more excited than worried."

Evan grabbed a slice of pizza as Sora stood by the kitchen sink looking out at the backyard. He walked over and stood next to her. "I know what we still need."

"What?"

"A nice gas grill. Our deck screams for one."

"A gas grill? What's that?"

Evan smirked; he'd 'Americanize' her properly. "Oh, let me tell you. A gas grill, Mrs. Lorne, is an outdoor stove that uses propane gas for fuel. A nice summer ritual here in the US is to get some burgers, dogs or chicken, invite some friends over, have a few beers and cook up the food. Eat it out on the deck and do a little socializing. You'll love it."

"That sounds nice Evan, except for the part about eating dog. Why would you do that? That sounds terrible." Sora had a slowly forming look of disgust on her face.

It took all of Evan's considerable self control not to laugh openly at his wife's comment but a smile did appear. "No honey, a 'hot dog' is just a name for a meat product we have here. You cook it and eat on a piece of bread called a bun, usually with some toppings."

"Oh, okay. I was going to say. Dog? I'd pass on…" Before Sora could finish her thought, the sound of Evan's government-issued Blackberry rang through the kitchen. Evan grabbed it off the counter and checked the number. _Oh shit._

"Lieutenant Colonel Lorne."

The unmistakable voice of Jack O'Neill rumbled through the receiver. _"Lorne, this is your new boss."_ The line was delivered with O'Neill's usual cheek.

"Yes sir. What can I do for you?"

"_What you can do is throw a uniform on and get your butt down to my office. I need you ASAP."_

"Yes sir."

O'Neill's voice took on a suddenly serious tone. _"I know I'm cutting into your leave Evan, but this is serious. Get your ass down here."_

"On my way sir."

"_Good man." _With that the phone went dead and Evan turned to Sora, whose face had taken on a concerned look.

"What is it?"

"That was General O'Neill. I'm not sure what's going on. They need me at the Pentagon now though."

Sora walked up and put her arms around her husband's neck and gently placed a kiss on his forehead, an old Genii sign for good luck. "Be careful."

"Always am."

Soon Evan found himself going somewhat faster than the speed limit down Interstate 66 through Arlington as his mind raced over the thousands of possibilities for his being summoned on short notice; the possibilities ran the gamut, from Replicators to rogue Russians to a random Goa'uld, each bringing its own headache. He knew that his new position, which he technically hadn't even started yet, would be either the pinnacle of his SGC time or the end of his career; someone at the SGC had to be taking bets.

His thoughts continued unabated as he swung off Rt. 66 and onto Rt. 110 amongst the tall office buildings of Rosslyn. Soon enough he was passing Arlington National Cemetery and the massive edifice of the Pentagon came into view. For once, finding parking and clearing security was easy.

Given the fact that it was the weekend, the normally bustling Pentagon was much easier to navigate. One of the defining traits of the massive headquarters of the American military was the idea of _location_. The closer one had their office situated near those of the Secretary of Defense, or SECDEF, the more influence or power they were assumed to have. The largest office building in the world was also one of the most political and it was a blood sport to have the type of access and influence that Jack O'Neill enjoyed. Even Lorne, who'd been off-world for so long, recognized the power access O'Neill must have enjoyed as he made his way into the suite of finely appointed offices occupied by O'Neill and his staff. He was quickly hustled by an Air Force master sergeant into the general's office.

Jack O'Neill stood behind his desk, a rather large one at that, clad in his short-sleeve blues, staring down at a fairly large pile of documents that would most likely take 10 men a week to read, at least by Evan's guess, while simultaneously cradling a phone receiver to his ear. From the look of things a dark frown creased his face, not the normally snarky yet professional look he'd cultivated over the years. Evan looked about the room as he strode to face the desk and noticed others in the room going over documents at a conference table or talking on phones. Something was certainly afoot. Upon arriving at the desk he stopped and waited as his superior spoke to an unknown party on the line.

"…I understand your concerns Mr. Douglas. I've spoken directly with Doctor Weir and she and her staff will be fully prepared to assist your people. We've had a regular rotation of researchers and contractors visit Atlantis to exploit our gains. You and your Crynet staff will be in good hands." O'Neill listened to the party on the line and let out a ragged breath. "Thank you, and have a safe trip." With that O'Neill hung up the phone.

"Lieutenant Colonel Lorne reporting sir."

O'Neill looked up from the cluttered desk and his frown lines appeared to disappear for a moment. "Evan, relax. Thanks for coming so quickly. How's Sora?"

Lorne relaxed his posture and smiled. "She's doing well sir, thank you. When I left she was discovering pizza for the first time."

A brief chuckle escaped from O'Neill. "Good; at least someone around here is having a decent weekend. I was just on the phone with a major contractor, Crynet. They and a team from DARPA are going out to your old address in a couple of days."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, they're going out to look at some of the Ancient's nanite tech. Apparently DARPA thinks there are all sorts of applications for the technology and they'll be working with McKay."

Lorne simply chuckled. He knew how much of an experience 'working with McKay' was.

O'Neill was apparently thinking the same thing. "As you can guess, I didn't warn them; everyone should enjoy the McKay experience for themselves." O'Neill grimaced. "I hate that nanotechnology. It's enough to make a man old…Anyway, I hate bringing you in but we've got a situation. Want to start your job early?"

"What do you need sir?" Lorne knew it wasn't like he actually had a choice in the matter.

O'Neill sighed and shoved a thick folder in his outstretched hand towards Lorne, who took it. "As usual with the SGC, it seems events have almost overtaken us. You know Colonel Dave Dixon? SG-13?"

"Mainly by reputation sir. Met him in passing once before deploying to Atlantis."

"Well, Dave is one heck of an operator. He's been with the SGC almost since the beginning. Anyway, he and his team were spearheading our efforts on PXG-147. Long story short, the planet was discovered by Daniel and his people and they got all excited as they usually do. When Dave and his team got there they discovered a former Ancient civilization that had been abandoned around 2,000 years ago. Among the things they found was a sister to Atlantis; the records indicated it was called 'Olympus'.

Lorne's eyebrows rose at that particular piece of information. O'Neill didn't miss the reaction.

"Exactly. That got our attention as well as the IOA and the NSC. So, we recently had Dave's team planet-side along with SG-44, a Navy team. They were riding herd on about 30 scientists as well as a RED HORSE team that was building the camp. We were due to rotate a formal security element in; you know, 820th guys, that sort of thing. Then, the shit hit the fan."

"Goa'uld?"

"I wish; at least those assholes are predictable. Approximately 20 hours ago, a force of unknown strength surrounded the camp and started demanding its surrender. They call themselves 'Colonials', they're human or a close analog and claim they're from some sort of civilization known as the 'Twelve Colonies of Kobol'." A shake of his head told Lorne what O'Neill thought of that. "Apparently Earth is part of their mythology in some way, like we're a branch of the family tree or something. In their initial landings to surround the outpost they captured three of Dave's people and interrogated them, and by 'interrogate' I mean 'beat the shit out of them'. For some reason they believed our outpost was a group of criminals or smugglers."

Lorne scowled. "Sweet Jesus Christ."

"Other than that it was a very professional military op apparently; infantry, light armor, air support, the works. Dixon's report is in your folder along with some other staff summary sheets. They repeatedly demanded that our people surrender and Dave told them to pound sand. Finally, Landry and the SGC managed to make contact through one of the team's captured radios. We're still working to put all the information together but apparently one of these Colonials made direct contact with Dave and worked out a meeting between both sides. What's even crazier is that these people apparently don't know what a stargate is; never heard of it. Dave offered to show them as proof that we had no hostile intent."

Lorne whistled. "Ballsy call sir."

O'Neill looked at Lorne with a smirk. "You've apparently mastered understatement Evan. So, as this is going on, we're briefing the NSC and we get the go-ahead to insert the Rangers. As Dave is about to show them the gate, they get introduced to the US Army as the Rangers come pouring out in the typical Ranger fashion. It took effort but Dave managed to keep a lid on things. Since then everyone has pulled back and it's calmed down a little."

Lorne had a sinking feeling where the conversation was going. "Where do I come in sir?"

"You get the fun part Evan. Officially, you'll escort Ambassador Mulhern and her diplomatic team as well as General Landry to the planet; they'll be meeting directly with these Colonials and trying to keep the situation in check. Unofficially…"

"Let me guess sir, intel op?"

"You bet your ass. I want everything we can find out about these people, down to their fucking shoe sizes. They brought a sizable force to that planet, and if what they told Dixon is true, they came by ship. That speaks to a pretty powerful civilization we've never heard of just showing up on our doorstep. I hate not knowing things and there's a boatload here we don't know. You and your team will be sniffing around; get a feel for these people, their level of technology and their mindset. If they're a threat, we need to know and start preparing for that." O'Neill shook his head and let out a long breath. "What you're going to learn Evan is that we are not nearly as smart as some people within the DC beltway seem to think we are or, even more, how smart they think they are. Landry and I begged for a heavier force posture at that site and got shot down on multiple occasions and what's even sadder is that this isn't the first time we've had this debate."

"Bob Dylan is a smart man; the times they are a changin' Evan. I've spent the last few hours going back and forth with the SECDEF, the Chairman and the White House. Needless to say, no one is happy about this, and a lot more people are going to be unhappy when I go with the Secretary up to the Hill. If any good comes out of this abortion it's that there's going to be a lot of soul-searching about putting people out in the boondocks without adequate resources. Hopefully, and I hate using that word, this incident is going to change the way we operate and how many resources we get. The pressure's on us and you by extension, to clean this up right. We have enough fucking problems."

Lorne stood before O'Neill with a look of professional detachment spread about his face, but inside he was taken aback. Generals did not normally vent their spleens to newly-minted lieutenant colonels, no matter their history. It spoke volumes to the ongoing pressure O'Neill and Landry were facing, whether it be from those within the DOD or from the political sphere, desperate for results to validate the massive outlays for operations or to justify the increasingly difficult work of keeping the whole thing classified. Realization spread throughout Evan Lorne's mind: he was walking into a big mess.

"Is this a one man job sir, or am I taking people with me?"

Jack smirked. "I'm not letting you have all the fun; why should you suffer alone?" He looked towards one of the officers working around the conference table. "Major Hunt?"

Lorne turned and saw an Army officer clad in ACU leave the table and walk over as his mind did an unconscious assessment. The man was everything the average person visualized in an Army officer. About 6'2" and somewhere in the 185 pound range, he was clean cut with dark brown hair lacking any sign of grey or of the dreaded receding hairline. On his chest was the typical hardware of an experienced Army officer: airborne wings, air assault wings and a Combat Infantryman's Badge. The combat patch on his right sleeve was that of the 25th Infantry Division; on his left was the arrowhead and airborne tab of Army Special Operations Command. From the looks of it, another striver, the American military was full of them.

"Colonel Lorne, this is Major Rich Hunt. I just poached him from Fort Bragg." Both men smiled and made introductions. O'Neill turned to Hunt. "I was just getting Colonel Lorne up to speed. He'll run the team. I need you guys to handle this delicately. Colonel Lorne has played this game a lot and knows how to deal with strange cultures. Just assess what we're facing here gentlemen; if these 'Colonials' are a threat we need to know that. If this was really just a case of mistaken identity, great; make nice and get it worked out. If not, we need as much useful intel as you can poach without giving away our hand; anyone with enough capacity to land the equivalent of a Marine Expeditionary Unit on a strange planet tends to get my attention. Now, get it done."

"Yes sir."

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

**Orbit of Kobol**

The situation room once served the purpose for planning strikes against enemy targets during the Cylon War almost 40 years ago. In the decades since the war's end the room's primary purpose had fallen out of use almost to the point of inactivity except in actions in which admirals commanded fleets from the room. In these days of peace, most such fleet actions were either war games or against pirates and terrorists. The situation room was comprised of a large electronic map table that could be configured for a variety of uses, supported by a number of information-relay consoles to monitor communications and the overall status of the ship and its operations. These stations were now vacant but would be re-staffed around the clock as soon as the briefing about to take place was over. The walls of the war room were decorated with large flat screens used to project images to assist in the planning of strikes and other missions. Blackboards were available to create pilot rosters for missions and ship-to-task orders. It was a room built for the purpose of making war and it was universal on all battlestars.

Currently the center table was dotted with photos while the wall mounted flat screens displayed high-res imagery from the ships in the fleet, high and low orbital maps of the base camp and surrounding region, and recently forwarded ground imagery of the base camp, the city remnants and the most interesting of all, the ruins housing the planet's stargate.

Currently the room was occupied by three men, Commanders Dollan and Belzen and Colonel Tigh. It was clearly evident that each man was uncomfortable with the current situation, which built an oppressive atmosphere in the room. And the tension only seemed to increase as the minutes ticked by.

The heavy airlock door swung open, "Commander on deck!" a Marine shouted as Adama entered the room causing the other three men to come to attention.

Adama waved them over to his side at the main table "Gentlemen, I've asked you here because of the rather unique situation we find ourselves in. As you know more than two hours ago the Marines from _Heroic_ launched their assault on the targeted base camp in accordance with our plan." The officers nodded in understanding as Adama continued, "However, recent developments on the surface of Kobol have halted the assault in its tracks."

Belzen looked up sharply, "Recent developments, Commander?"

Commander Nat Dollan looked similarly surprised although his surprise was tempered with a hint of annoyance, "I think your gonna have to elaborate on that one a little more Commander Adama. One minute I'm getting detailed reports from Carthan that the assault is going as planned, and then I hear your son somehow got himself involved and wound up being captured. I was practically cut out of the loop from that point on and I was unable to coordinate our aerospace assets effectively for our men and women on the ground. What could possibly have happened to change the tactical situation so drastically?"

Adama knew Dollan's frustration with him was entirely justified. The Marines had been told one thing and then in the middle of their operation told to stand down without any justification as to why. Such command interference was more than a little frustrating for the grunts on the ground as well as the fleet in space. Adama could sympathize; he had been in many such situations himself and he always resented it. He also knew there was no way they were going to believe the next words out of his mouth.

"I'll be blunt. The people on that planet are not pirates and grave robbers as we initially believed. We have apparently stumbled onto the Thirteenth Tribe."

Dollan and Belzen reflexively straightened to their full height in shocked amazement. Tigh simply scowled. But other than the slight hum of the ship's life support systems and the barely noticeable rumble of the deck plates as the ship maneuvered. The room was complete devoid of sound.

"Or so we've been told," Dollan supplied skeptically.

"Be that as it may, both Captain Adama _and_ Colonel Carthan believe enough of their claim to have called off the assault. The Marines have broken off their siege and are regrouping at Alpha and Beta's landing sites. This now leaves us in an awkward position; one that none of us has prepared for or were expecting; a first contact situation."

"Sweet mother of Artemis, we came close to war with another human world. Worse, it's the Thirteenth Colony!" Tigh exclaimed. His fingers flexed as if itching for a glass that wasn't there. "I think I need a drink."

Belzen smirked in Tigh's direction before shifting his attention back to Adama "You sound like you believe it Commander."

"There is enough evidence to support their claim, so we'll be operating under the assumption that they're telling us the truth." Adama tapped a few key strokes on the table and pulled up the image of the stargate. "Watch this." With another stroke of the key Adama pulled up a video on one of the flat screens and played it. The image jumped around a lot as the cameraman moved from one side of the gate to another before finally moving back to get a safe view of the gate from the front. They could hear the voice of Lee Adama and someone else they didn't recognize as they narrated exactly what they were looking at. Suddenly the chevrons on the gate came to life as the inner ring of the gate began to spin. In moments all seven chevrons locked in place and just as suddenly a billowing pool of water burst forth before collapsing in on itself and then stabilizing into a shimmering pool. Within moments half a dozen figures walked from the shimmering pool as if by the will of the Gods themselves before the pool of water flared brightly for a moment and then disappeared entirely. Adama stopped the video.

Adama turned back to the three men to note their stunned expressions.

Commander Dollan was the first to break the silence "What did he call it again?"

"It's called a 'stargate'," Adama supplied. "And it's apparently the main mode of travel between Earth and Kobol."

"Lords of Kobol!" Belzen exclaimed.

"In just under half an hour of us launching our surprise attack on their base camp Earth managed to push a rapid response force through the planet's stargate despite catching them with their pants down. Damn good response time. And it's a safe bet they've got even more ready to send through on a moment's notice if things go south." Adama tapped a few more buttons to bring up a high resolution map of the region with the stargate's location circled, the positions their Marines held during the siege highlighted and detailed in blue and finally the base camp circled in red.

Commander Dollan quickly caught on to what he was seeing, "That stargate is positioned directly behind Alpha's lines. It also gives them a good position to hit Beta Company's flank and a straight shot to hit Headquarters in the rear. Had they come out shooting we would have been caught completely by surprise, taken serious casualties, our lines would have collapsed….mass confusion."

Belzen nodded in agreement, "Thank the Gods they didn't. But how did something like this escape our notice? The Marines would have had to move right past those ruins!"

Dollan shook his head, "Priorities. Their orders were to secure the base camp and its personnel first. After the area was secure only then would Carthan's Marines have swept the ruins. Besides even if his people had seen this thing they wouldn't have known what to make it. Probably view it as some holy relic in the City of the Gods and not give it a second thought."

"That doesn't matter now." Adama stated. "What does matter is where we go from here. Captain Adama has developed a sort of dialogue with the senior military commander on site. They insist they'll remain friendly so long as we do. But the situation is complicated as we still have three of their people in custody…" Tigh and Adama shared a dark _angry_ look at this.

Dollan caught the look and instantly discerned what it meant. _Oh frak…._

Belzen too had caught the look but didn't register the implications, "So why not release them since they're clearly not grave robbing fraks?"

Tigh took this one, "The Marines roughed them up good. We're talking about possibly serious internal injuries."

Adama added his thoughts, "My first reaction would be to have them transferred to _Galactica_ for treatment but I think that would only agitate the Earthers. They have no reason to trust us and they've made it clear that they don't. We'll return their people as soon as their condition is stabilized. But we need to get control of this situation and we need to get control of it now, before we can proceed with _our_ mission."

Commander Belzen raised an eyebrow as he considered what he was hearing "What do you propose Commander?"

But before Adama could put forth his plan of action Commander Dollan put forth his thoughts first, "First things first, we need to make an assessment of the possible threat these people pose to _our_ people and our mission."

Belzen's easy going manner disappeared in an instant as his temper flared suddenly. "Now wait just a frakking minute there, Nat! These are humans we're talking about and not just any humans either, but the Thirteenth Tribe! _Our_ people, not some frakking toasters—"

"No, Jurgen, he's right," Adama stated calmly. It had the effect of halting the impending argument in its tracks. "Let's not forget why we're here gentlemen. Our orders are to establish a presence on Kobol and hold it. No one accounted for another myth suddenly becoming real. Things are tenuous with them right now, so relations could go either way. We have no idea what brought them back to Kobol or their views on us. Four thousand years cut off from the rest of humanity can change a people in ways we can't even imagine. And if Earth decides to become hostile they're definitely in a position to make our position here…difficult."

They all knew that the fleet also had orders to find additional supplies of tylium but with the exception of the Cylon base only a jump away they hadn't found so much as a drop. And while their mission to find Kobol had been a success, establishing and maintaining a presence would largely be dependent on Earth's cooperation. And that was not going to sit well with a lot of people back home once they found out. First learning that Kobol was real, and then finding the Cylon fleet, and now a near disastrous first contact with Earth. The bad omens just kept piling on and Adama felt as if they were barely treading water.

"I don't see any space assets here which mean we have air and space superiority," Commander Dollan noted.

"Doesn't mean they don't have ships en-route right now, and we have no idea just what they have that they can throw at us. So let's not give them a reason…more than we already have, to become hostile."

Dollan looked uneasy but said nothing.

Adama turned to Tigh, "Saul, I want you to take a Raptor to the surface and link up with Captain Adama. I want you two to get a feel of their commander on scene. Find out what their intentions are, assess their military strengths and capabilities… and their weaknesses. We need an accurate picture of whom and what we're dealing with before we proceed further."

"Yes sir," Tigh responded. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, the only gestures he had which displayed his nervousness at the situation as he mentally calculated his approach to the problem.

Belzen fidgeted slightly, a clear sign of his discomfort which garnered him the attention of the other three men in the room. "I hate to ask this but I feel the need to bring up the rather obvious eight hundred pound gorilla in the room. What are we going to tell Earth about the Cylons?"

An eight hundred pound gorilla in the middle of a china shop smiling with sadistic glee at the thought of the carnage it could unleash.

"We tell them the truth as soon as possible," Adama stated. "They need to understand the threat they now face."

"You mean the threat _we_ just brought to their doorstep," Belzen added in subdued tone of voice.

Dollan looked to him sharply, "We don't know that. For all we know the Cylons could be here for them not us."

"Or both of us," Adama added flatly. "It doesn't matter now. We'll tell them as soon as is appropriate. Now if you'll excuse me I need to brief the rest of the fleet on the current situation. Jurgen, I want the _Perseus_ to continue sending out Raptor recons of the nearby star systems. Look for tylium or the Cylons; we need to know what's out there and if we're being surrounded. Nat, continue _Heroic'_s support operations for our Marines. If things work out in the coming negotiations we'll be setting up a base camp of our own soon enough. _Galactica_ and the rest of the battlestar group will redeploy in a defensive posture around the civilian ships and our position on the planet just in case the toasters do decide to crash the party. Dismissed."

Adama didn't want to risk having all of the commanders on _Galactica_ for this conference and give the Cylons, who _had_ to be monitoring the fleet, an opportunity to launch a decapitation strike aimed at taking out their senior leadership. An opportunity he knew the Cylons likely wouldn't pass up.

As the three men saluted and filed out Adama picked up a headset and prepared to brief the rest of the fleet for the biggest _no shit_ story of their careers.

**Kobol**

The air was hot and humid and his sweat soaked shirt clung to his chest and back like a second skin which had become a minor irritant but one he could easily ignore. It had been a while since he had been away from civilization or the confined grey walls of a battlestar and Lee Adama found that he had missed it. The air was fresh and clean with no hints of pollutants or any man made scents on the wind. The scent of fresh pine and earth seemed to wash over him and fill his lungs with their natural worldly scent.

Gods how it invigorated him! Either that or he was still feeling the adrenaline high from his insane but rather effective plan.

Something buzzed past his right ear and on instinct he swatted it, upon feeling his success on his fingertips he brought his hand around to inspect this small but no less significant victory against another annoying menace. Kobol may have been a world well into its recovery from whatever cataclysm had plagued it, but its damn mosquito population had apparently weathered the storm better than the rest of the world did, and was out in such force that one could only attribute with the most determined Cylon assaults! He cursed himself and the Marines for their own shortsightedness for not thinking to bring any bug repellant.

Lee took a moment to lean against a fallen pillar. He removed his helmet and pulled out his canteen and drank a generous amount of water to quench his thirst. The water was refreshing and seemed to help alleviate some of the exhaustion he could feel beginning to set it. But he felt a sense of accomplishment he had not felt since….well for a long time now.

The forests on this world were as thick as any of the jungles of Scorpia and looking off in the distance Lee could see storm clouds forming. The beauty of Kobol was all around them; a pristine paradise as far as the eye could see. Lee had never really been known for his strong faith in the Gods, but Kobol was every bit the gem of the Gods the scrolls said it would be. And all Lee wanted to do was just bask in it and enjoy this moment of peace and contentment the Gods had so graciously given him. He took a deep refreshing breath to enjoy the moment…and then the moment was done, and it was time to get back to work.

The Marines had since fallen back to Alpha and Beta Companies' landing zones, even the Raptors from the other companies having relocated to their position as well. There was no real sense of purposeful activity going on. Marines and pilots sat around talking to each other, drinking water or eating rations or just sitting and taking in the majestic beauty all around them. They just sat there waiting.

Colonel Carthan had briefed his battalion and company staffs as to what was going on. These shell shocked leaders then went on to brief their troops and Lee could see it; the looks of shock and disbelief and then dawning realization and horror at what almost happened. More than a few lost their stomach contents a few minutes later. The rest just seemed as if they were lost in a daze. How do you deal with the fact you almost attacked a myth suddenly made real? It wasn't something anyone was trained to deal with and it seemed Lee was dealing with it better than most. Even Colonel Carthan and Captain Hafoka seemed…just lost.

Lee returned his canteen to its holder on his hip and then refastened his helmet as he stood up from the pillar and made his way to Carthan. Along the way he could see the Marines he passed watching him intently with a strange mix of emotions. Some glared at him; as if the sudden unwelcome situation was entirely his fault. Others watched him impassively while only a few watched with a sense of grudging respect. But never gratitude, at least never openly. Marines were great soldiers but it always seemed as if they were physically incapable of showing gratitude to anyone but other Marines.

Lee stopped his trek in front of Colonel Carthan and assumed a respectful stance. It was customary to never salute a superior officer in the field in case an enemy sniper was watching and looking to pick off an officer. It was a tradition that went back to when the Colonies were busy fighting each other and it had held over into the Cylon War despite the fact that the Toasters killed officer and enlisted equally when they went on their merry little rampage through the Colonies.

"Colonel," Lee stated with a nod as he came within a few feet of the senior Marine officer.

Colonel Carthan had his arms folded across his chest as he looked off into the distance. Upon hearing the captain addressing him he turned slowly to face him. Carthan held an even expression as he eyed the young captain. There was no sense of hostility in his demeanor but nor was there a hint his presence was welcomed either.

"Captain," Carthan returned the nod. "What can I do for you?"

"The Earth people that we took, how are they?"

"Colonel Dixon is with the corpsman now. But they should be stabilized and ready for transport back to their base camp soon enough."

"Or the stargate," Lee offered.

"Or the stargate," Carthan repeated flatly. Carthan took a second to take a breath and look the fleet captain straight in the eyes "Captain Adama, what you did today was incredibly reckless. You placed the lives of my Marines, yourself and your charge in danger with what you did." Carthan paused for a moment. "But Gods damned if you didn't put it all on the line to do the right thing. And for that you have my respect."

"Thank you, sir."

"Frak you and your thanks, _Captain_," Carthan spat. "If you were under my command I'd have your ass! But since you've seen to have developed some kind of dialogue with the Earthers and you seem to have gained a measure of respect in their eyes we're going to need you here."

Lee raised his eyebrows in surprised confusion, "Sir?"

"You won't be heading back to _Galactica_ any time soon. Congratulations Captain Adama, you've just volunteered yourself to be our liaison officer to Earth. I just got word your father is sending down his XO to do some sort of threat assessment. All he would have had to do is ask me and I would have given him one." Carthan looked over Lee's shoulder and this time his expression did darken. Standing behind Lee Adama and looking completely unrepentant was Major Telemecus Meade. Carthan repressed a scowl as he turned back to Lee, "Now get the frak out of my sight and go liaise."

"Yes sir," Lee nodded. He turned and saw out of the corner of his eyes as Meade gave him a smirk and a slight nod, which Lee returned with a subtle one of his own as Meade went to the Colonel's side. The two officers turned and walked away with lowered but clearly angry words for each other. Or more accurately, Colonel Carthan's angry words for Major Meade and the Major smoothly dealing with his superior officer's wrath. The skill with which he did it made Lee suspect this probably wasn't the first time the Major had gotten such an ass chewing. Lee idly wondered what the story on that was.

Lee shook his head to put it out of his mind as he made his way to Colonel Dixon's side.

The Colonel was standing tall with a squad of soldiers the Earthers called 'Rangers' with their team medic working alongside his Colonial Marine counterpart as they worked on stabilizing the three wounded SG team members. Standing several feet off and giving them plenty of room was a squad of Colonial Marines eyeing the Earth soldiers with mixed expressions. Some were awed, others more critical and calculating. The Rangers were giving as good as they were receiving, eyeballing the Marines with barely disguised contempt rooted in the physical condition of the two Airman and one civilian.

Dixon was currently having a heated argument with none other than Captain Hafoka and Lee had a good idea what they were arguing about.

"I want to know what you're going to do about this." Dixon demanded in low tone but his anger was palpable in his voice. "They beat the crap out of my men. I don't know where you come from Captain Hafoka but we don't tolerate that kind of behavior. What kind of outfit are you running here!"

Hafoka's nostrils flared in angry indignation but she kept her considerable temper in check. Lee noted that whatever misgivings she'd had earlier when she'd learned the truth were already fading under Dixons implied insults.

"I assure you Colonel we do not tolerate such behavior which carries severe consequences under the Articles of War. The Marines in question have been detained and are even now on their way back to the _Heroic_ where they will face disciplinary action for what they've done. You have my word on that."

"But they were _your_ Marines weren't they?" Dixon asked coolly.

Hafoka spoke through gritted teeth "They are."

Lee knew exactly what Colonel Dixon was hinting at. The actions of the Marines reflected on their commander's ability to enforce standards and discipline. There were few greater insults one could make of a commanders ability to lead their troops.

Hafoka was by now turning a deep shade of crimson. Although Dixon was clearly a foot taller than her and solidly built he had no doubt that Hafoka was seriously contemplating slugging him.

"I have to attend to my Marines. Will that be all, Colonel?" Captain Hafoka asked in an icy tone of voice.

"We're done here," Dixon replied in an equally chilly voice.

No love lost here between these two.

Captain Hafoka turned away from Colonel Dixon with an angry scowl but when she spotted Lee her visage faltered into a hint of vulnerability that seemed almost alien coming from her. It was only there for an instant before it disappeared with Hafoka as she stormed out of sight.

Lee turned back to Colonel Dixon but Dixon had returned his attention to his team.

"Jeremy, you alright?" Dixon asked.

Master Sergeant Bosworth grinned back to his CO in an easy going almost lazy fashion, "Can't feel a thing sir."

"Seeing you sir gives me that warm tingly feeling in my stomach," Staff Sergeant Eric Wade added with his own grin.

The Ranger medic smirked, "That's probably the ten milligrams of morphine I gave you both." Everyone turned to look at the third member of their team with wry expressions. Dr. Michael Balinsky was quietly snoozing on his litter, and they chuckled quietly. Lee noted how the Colonel stood just a bit straighter than he had before, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The medics had taken one look at the three of them and placed them on litters with IV lines and a good strong dose of painkillers which put Balinsky out like a light. Good ole morphine.

Lee noted the glassy look both men had in their eyes and their rather giddy and relaxed behavior. If this 'morphine' was anything like morpha then the three men had to be feeling pretty damn good.

"Hey I know you; you're that crazy guy who wanted to get captured. Guess your plan worked!" Wade said as he propped himself on his elbows.

Yeah they were probably feeling _really_ good right now.

All eyes turned to the Colonial Fleet captain as they regarded the newcomer. Lee felt as if he was being put under a microscope and he fought the urge to fidget under their scrutinizing gaze. But apparently he must have passed whatever test they had as several of the 'Rangers' nodded in apparent approval as Colonel Dixon stepped forward and extended his hand. "Captain Adama, I appreciate your help in sorting out this mess. My guys told me what you did for them and for that you have my personal gratitude. Thank you."

Lee took the offered hand and shook it firmly, "You're more than welcome Colonel. I'm just sorry this mess had to happen in the first place. My people have dreamed of making contact with the Thirteenth Tribe for a long time. I just didn't think it would happen like this."

Lee missed the confused looks between the Rangers with some of them even muttering 'Thirteenth Tribe?' back and forth.

Dixon knew when he was out of his element and this was certainly it. He was no diplomat and the one person who might have been able to help him in this situation was out cold on a litter. And he had sent Coombs back with the rest of the Rangers from 7th Battalion to reinforce and secure the base camp. He could _really_ use Doctor Jackson right about now. Hopefully General Landry was thinking the same thing.

So instead he decided to shift the topic onto more neutral ground "First contact situations are always a risky proposition. Every time you step through that gate you never know what you'll be stepping into. Not all of our first contacts have been pleasant" Dixon noted the slight wince in the young captain's features "But they're not always bad either."

"And how would you rate this 'first contact'?"

"Certainly memorable" Dixon grunted. After all it wasn't every day a human battle fleet in orbit launched an all out assault on your position. Little things like that tended to color a person's perceptions. That and the fact they had beaten _his_ team to a pulp without him having been there to stop them…even if it _had_ been a case of mistaken identity.

Lee nodded, "You sound like you have a lot of experience with the stargate?"

Dixon smirked internally,_ Nice try kid, but I've been doing this for years_. He could tell the young fleet captain was fishing for information but it's not like he could blame the young man. These 'Colonials' as they called themselves didn't seem to know what they had just gotten into. But they did seem to think they knew them. Thankfully further hostilities didn't seem to be on their agenda.

"I've been doing this for a few years now," Dixon answered diplomatically. "I know enough to get the job done."

Lee smirked "I see." Tiptoeing around these people obviously wasn't going to get him or his people anywhere. And what was it that Carthan said? Liaise. And right now there only seemed to be one way to do that. Lee took a deep breath and decided to take a page out of his father's book and just plunge right in. "I'll be blunt with you Colonel. What happened here was a complete and utter cluster-frak. We had no idea who or what we were dealing with but we assumed they were Colonials. And we thought the best way to get answers was to take control of the situation by taking the camp."

"But instead we ran into your people in a huge misunderstanding. On behalf of the Colonial Fleet and the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, I am truly sorry for what happened. And I know for a fact that our fleet commander would like to express his regret for the situation in a much more personal setting. We're hoping that we can arrange for talks to discuss the possibility of peaceful relations between our peoples." Lee knew he really didn't really have the authority to open negotiations but at the same time he knew his father well enough to anticipate what he would most likely do. And William Adama would want to fix this frak-up immediately. So Lee felt pretty confident in taking the initiative in getting the ball rolling on that front while at the same time doing some damage control.

Dixon nodded in approval. The young man was no diplomat. That much was clear. But he was a natural and he was candid and direct, two traits that Dixon found refreshing.

But before Dixon could respond the unmistakable thunder of a sonic boom echoed from overhead. Dixon instinctively looked up and around for the ship that made it. The Rangers reacted by tightening their grips on their weapons and scanning their surroundings.

Lee knew that had to be the Raptor that was ferrying Colonel Tigh down from _Galactica_.

Off in the distance Lee spotted the Raptor on approach as did Colonel Dixon.

"I'm assuming that's another one of yours?" Dixon asked.

"Yes Colonel." Lee answered. "And I need to go meet them."

"And I need to get my people back to the stargate." Dixon answered. He nodded to the senior NCO from the Rangers who began getting his people ready.

Dixon looked back to the young captain. "I can forward your request back to Stargate Command. Making peaceful contact with other worlds is a primary mission of ours. We have a team that specializes in first contact meetings and establishing diplomatic relations. I'm sure they'll be eager to speak to you or any representatives that you may have."

Lee nodded gratefully, "Thank you Colonel."

Dixon nodded and turned back to the Rangers who motioned they were ready to go. They picked up the litters carrying the wounded SG team members. Several others moved to either side to provide security while a small fire team moved forward and made off in the direction of the stargate. The Colonial Marines made sure to give them a wide berth as they left.

Lee turned around to make his way back to the Raptor holding area just as the Raptor from _Galactica_ was touching down. Dr. Anthem Cyrus, having caught sight of the Raptor, joined Lee. The side hatch slowly opened on its hydraulic lifts to reveal the scowling features of Colonel Saul Tigh.

"Colonel," Captain Adama said formally as he assumed a respectful stance.

"Captain," Tigh grunted. The Colonel stepped onto the wings then dropped to the soft ground of Kobol with absolutely zero reverence or fanfare. Surprisingly, the Colonel wasn't alone Lee saw. Right behind him was Starbuck, and it looked like Helo and Boomer were in the Raptor doing their post flight checks.

Kara bounced off the Raptor and moved right up to him with a shit eating grin on her face before snapping off a perfect salute. "Sniper check, sir!"

Cyrus frowned as if he was confused, then wiped off the frown as he mentally wrote it off to one of those military social oddities.

"Frak you very much, _Lieutenant _Thrace," Lee returned the salute with an equally haughty voice. "But if the Earthers were going shoot me they would have done it back when they had me prisoner."

"Damn." Kara sighed melodramatically. "And here I thought my plan for promotion by assassination seemed like a sure bet." Kara frowned slightly, "I still can't believe this stuff about Earth though. Colonel Tigh briefed us of course, but none of us really bought it."

Lee arched an eyebrow "Oh?"

"Yeah…we all thought shiny head decided to up his chemical dependency to chamalla instead of his usual bottle a night."

Tigh was glowering at Starbuck, "Remind me why I brought you again?"

"Because the Old Man wanted you to have some backup and there's no better back up than me!" Starbuck smirked. Then in the next instant her face took on an expression as if she was going to be physically ill, "And I'm your…aide…for the mission."

"You're Gods damned right about that!" Tigh snapped. "Now why don't you go talk to Captain Hafoka and get her honest to Gods assessment on whom and what we're dealing with. I want her opinion on their weapons, equipment, training and procedures. Or is that too hard for you?"

"Nah, that sounds easy enough," Starbuck shrugged then turned to Lee "This had got to be the biggest No Frak story in the Fleet! You have got to tell me when we get back! As your best friend I call first dibs!" And she was off with a wink and a wave as she effortlessly sashayed through the Marines around her.

Tigh grumbled, "Well now that that's out of the way." Tigh regarded Lee for a moment "Captain, you're with me." Tigh said as he began to move off without so much as a word or glance at Dr. Cyrus who followed at a distance.

Lee turned back to give an acknowledging wave to Helo and Boomer who were watching him. They waved back and then he turned and moved to catch up the Colonel on his left side. Tigh didn't even turn to face him, "This was one hell of a situation you got yourself into Captain."

"Yes sir," Lee acknowledged. It certainly was at that.

"But it also gives us a uniquely close look at who and what we're dealing with," Tigh said.

"My father wants a threat assessment to the mission." Lee stated. It wasn't even a question. He knew how his father thought and since his release he had been expecting this.

Now Tigh did look at him, "That's right, Captain. So let's hear it. Let's start with weapons."

Lee mentally compiled his thoughts on his observations and what he had heard "Weapons technology seems comparable to our own; chemically propelled projectiles instead of the usual sci-fi stuff you see in the movies. No laser guns or anything exotic of that nature. The caliber of their rounds, at first glance, appears smaller than our own. I think it's prudent that we at least assume comparable levels of firepower. The same could probably be said for their squad automatic weapons and heavier machine guns."

Cyrus interposed himself as he couldn't keep his own observations to himself. "Colonel, if I may." Though Tigh scowled slightly at the interposition, he didn't say anything to stop the archaeo-anthropologist. "It's odd, isn't it? The Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol two thousand years before the other Tribes. That means Earth has an approximately two millennia head start on us. So their science should be a bit more advanced than ours." Cyrus tossed Lee a quick glance as he added, "They may have experienced a much more disastrous setback than the Anti-Science Period we had in the beginning, or a series of serious setbacks." Seeing Tigh's look of impatience, he quickly finished with, "If the Thirteenth Tribe have military technology and training on a level similar to ours, that implies they have an enemy or enemies to fight. Who's there to fight? There's only themselves, so the Thirteenth Colony must have some infighting, likely stemming from those setbacks, at least enough to develop the technology and training."

Tigh nodded as he accepted the scientist' analysis in addition to the Captain's detailed input and then stopped and brought up his binoculars. A few hundred meters away was the fallen ruins of door frames, pillars and walls which was supposed to be Opera House in marshy ground…the very same one from the drawings in the sacred scrolls detailing the City of the Gods. It took Tigh a minute to actually process he was seeing the _actual_ Opera House. Off to the side on firmer ground, there was a partially collapsed domed structure with the appearance of a temple. That must have been one of the major temples surrounding the Forum which contained the Opera House. Though not an overtly religious man, Tigh still did believe in the Gods, so it took him a moment to stop his temper from flaring from what he saw.

"What in frakking hell are they doing!"

Lee instantly knew what had gotten the Colonel's attention. "The stargate is located in that temple. And Earth made sure to reinforce their position at the Gate before securing their base camp. They have _at least_ platoon strength guarding the gate, heavily dug in and fortified with heavy weapons coving overlapping fields of fire. We think we spotted at least two snipers, so they have long rifle capability. And surface to air missiles" Lee grimaced as he pictured assaulting such a dug in position "If I understand how this stargate works, they have the ability to open a way to Earth and request reinforcements or they can retreat through the gate."

Tigh frowned and lowered his binoculars "No ship?"

Lee shook his head "Nothing that I saw or heard about, even in passing. My guess is that the stargate is their primary means of travel and moving supplies and equipment between Earth and Kobol."

"Frak," Tigh sighed as he rubbed his chin in consideration. "That's probably why they insisted on a clear and uncontested path between the gate and their base. And we gave it to them." Tigh delivered this last statement as if he felt it was a mistake. Which, Lee knew, was probably how he felt. Tigh chewed on his lip in thoughtful consideration for a few moments before he regarded the young captain. "If we were to somehow cut them off from the gate, what sort of threat do you think they would pose then?" Tigh asked.

The question made the hair on the back of Lee's neck stand on end but he understood the necessity of the question, and its validity. It was just the way Tigh delivered it that had him slightly worried. From what he could see of Cyrus, the scientist' arched eyebrow showed that he caught a similar implication but he said nothing, content to observe. Still, he had a job to do.

"Reduced, perhaps significantly so. The stargate is a game changer I'm just beginning to wrap my head around. The ability to move troops and weapons from one place to another in such a rapid manner could rapidly overwhelm our position here. And we don't know how many troops Earth can move through its gate to here on short notice."

"We're better off assuming battalion strength or better." Tigh considered, "I don't know who designed that gate but it's not efficient. It's a natural choke point you can concentrate your fire on. It's not big enough to fit a LandRam through which limits your options to only infantry or special forces."

"You could probably fit a Viper through it," Lee added.

"It would be a tight fit. Gods I know of only one pilot who would be stupid enough to try!" Tigh snorted.

Lee suppressed a chuckle. Yes…there was one would definitely be willing to give it a try.

"Let's take a look at their base camp. Lead on, Captain."

Perceiving that Tigh would not tolerate his presence any more than already absolutely necessary, Cyrus excused himself to go back to studying the ruins.

They rounded up a squad of Marines and began to move out to a position to safely observe the Earth base camp. Along the way Lee related what he had witnessed of the Earths soldiers; how they moved in well executed maneuvers, their level of coordination and mutual support.

"Bottom line it Captain." Tigh groused as the team stopped near a cluster of trees inside the tree line giving them a clear line of sight to the base camp but would conceal them from view.

"From what I've witnessed I'd say the people we're dealing with are at least comparable with our own in terms of training, skill and professionalism."

"That's unfortunate," Tigh sighed, "Heavy firepower and large numbers can only count for so much, but if they've got the training to utilize those advantages properly, we're in a world of hurt if things south. Even with CAS we'll take heavy casualties." Tigh brought up the binoculars and studied the base camp intently to note every major and minor detail he could. After a while he lowered it "I've seen enough. Let's get back."

They walked in silence for their return trek back until nearly fifteen minutes later they had returned to LZ.

"What's your opinion on their leader, this Colonel Dixon?" Tigh finally spoke up.

"He's competent, professional, disciplined and an innovative thinker. The man's willing to risk it all on the line for his people. He's not someone I'd want to face in a fight."

"Well, you have to respect that. The trouble is these people could seriously get in the way of our mission here," Tigh stated.

"That doesn't mean they will, Colonel," Lee stated. He began to get a nagging feeling he was onto something important. "In fact I'm almost positive they don't realize what planet they're on."

Tigh now looked stunned, "How could they _not_ know they're on Kobol!"

But that feeling persisted "I don't know, Colonel. It's more like what I wasn't seeing and hearing rather than what I did. There were no references to the Gods or the fact they were standing on sacred ground."

"Is that a fact?" Tigh looked thoughtful.

"Maybe we should just ask them, Colonel." Lee said.

"If they want to talk," Tigh grumbled "Lords know I wouldn't want to talk to the people who beat the crap out of my people."

"Sir, Colonel Carthan made it clear he wanted me to stay put and act as liaison officer to the Earthers."

"Yeah, he relayed that to us just before I came down." Tigh acknowledged. "Your old man thinks it's a good idea. He has every confidence you'll succeed."

Lee couldn't understand where the warm feeling came from that threatened to choke him up despite the still-burning anger he held toward his father for Zak's death a year ago. It took some of his considerable control to force it back down. If only barely. "I won't let him down."

"Anything else Captain?" Tigh asked. But his eyes were off in the distance as he watched Lt. Thrace saunter back to their Raptor.

Lee took a moment to compile his thoughts before answering "Just a few, Colonel. I've spoken to Colonel Dixon since the 'incident' and he says he'll get the ball rolling on getting a first contact specialist team out here to open negotiations." Tigh nodded his accent and for a moment Lee thought he could detect a hint of relief in the Colonel's demeanor. "And finally, I don't think that they've been here that long, Colonel."

Tigh turned back to face Lee with a look of genuine surprise, "Why is that, Captain?"

"Everything in that base is brand new. Nothing looks worn and everything looks freshly built. I'd say they haven't been here more than six months, tops."

"A good thing to know," Tigh agreed just as Lt. Thrace stepped up in front of him.

"What do you have Lieutenant?"

And she told him, delivering a detailed and professional report of everything relayed to her by Captain Hafoka, and going above and beyond the usual work ethic of Starbuck, Colonel Carthan as well. At the end of it Tigh was nodding in thought.

"Lieutenant Thrace's report matches perfectly with what you just told me, Captain. This is exactly what the Old Man needs to know."

"So are we going to be opening talks with Earth?" Lee asked.

"Not my call to make but I think you know how your old man will want to play this. Get comfortable Captain it looks like you're going to be down here a while."

"Yes, sir." Lee nodded. He knew a dismissal when he saw one.

Tigh nodded to him one last time and then motioned for Starbuck to board their Raptor. As the hatch closed behind them and the Raptor lifted off for orbit and the _Galactica_ Lee wondered what else this day would bring.

**Kobol**

As he stood in a relaxed version of the parade rest stance facing the stargate, Colonel Dixon continued to mentally chastise himself for ever agreeing to pick up the mission he found himself on. He had at the time the opportunity to pass on it as his team had just come off a short-lived exploration mission that had been a bust. But, in his usual workaholic commitment, coupled with his men's eagerness, he'd agreed to take up what at the time had been referred to as a 'promising recon'. _Last time I ever use that fucking term_ he mused. It wasn't the first time his addiction to the mission had led him and his team down the proverbial rabbit-hole; only now, that hole was getting deeper by the very minute and the complexity was getting overwhelming. Attached to those thoughts was a strain of guilt; his men, his friends, were in a hospital now because he had brought them to this backwater. In his time at the SGC, Dixon had seen a fair amount of first contact situations, some good and some bad. But in almost all the cases, they had involved cultures and societies that shared the link of Goa'uld domination at one point in their past, whether distant or more recent. Now however had come the wildcard, an apparently powerful and competent culture with no evident connections and its own ideas of how the universe was ordered. He had absolutely no idea how this was going to play out, and that lack of grounding scared him. Badly.

In the immediate aftermath of the Colonials' arrival on PXG-147, mutual interaction had been tense, for obvious reasons. Both sides eyeballed each other warily from a distance, the Americans barely disguising their dislike behind a professional veneer while the Colonials were trying hard to hide a barely contain mixture of awe and curiosity that Dixon still didn't properly understand to his consternation. If Dixon heard the term 'Thirteenth Tribe' one more time he was sure to either gag or draw his sidearm and shoot the offending party. Only years of SGC experience and training allowed him to hide that disgust behind a wall of carefully constructed professionalism. Everyone had their crosses to bear.

The only good news was that the full weight of responsibility was about to be lightened somewhat; the bad news: his bosses were coming. With the dramatic events unfolding, the attention of the highest levels had apparently been brought to bear. Ambassador Kathryn Mulhern, the official State Department ambassador-in-residence at Stargate Command, would be coming to negotiate personally with the Colonials. Coming with her would be General Landry himself as well as a large chunk of SGC senior staff. Dixon felt relieved to an extent; he could go back slightly to focusing on the welfare of those he was charged with leading.

Dixon's attention was brought back to the moment as the gate activated and roared to life, the usual sequence of events that had become nearly routine. After the wormhole was established, bodies began to emerge and take in their surroundings, some of whom he recognized. Dixon approached the emerging group with his professional demeanor plastered to his tired face.

"Ambassador Mulhern, General Landry, welcome to PXG-147."

Kathryn Mulhern smiled her finely crafted diplomatic smile. A 25 year veteran of the State Department, Mulhern was a product of all the right schools: Middlebury, Harvard and the Fletcher School of Diplomacy. An attractive 5'6" brunette with shoulder length hair lacking any signs of gray or silver, she'd cut her teeth in diplomatic assignments all over the world. During her time at State she'd developed a reputation among the diplomatic corps as a jack-of-all-trades and as a 'fireman', capable of being thrust into thorny international hiccups and getting results. Traditionally wary of the military and the Department of Defense, she'd come to have a level of respect for the staff of the SGC and the teams. Her working relationship with Hank Landry was said by SGC insiders to be getting 'better'. Mulhern was dressed in a sharp, coal-colored business suit, an aide carrying her overcoat and bags.

Mulhern reached out for Dixon's hand. "Colonel Dixon, I'm so glad to see you're alright. You and your troops gave us a scare I must say."

Dixon chuckled. "Not as much as the one we got Ambassador." He turned to Landry. "Sir, good to see you again. I hope we didn't set off too many alarms."

Hank Landry, dressed sharply in his dress blues, smiled warmly as he pumped Dixon's hand. In his time he'd developed a high regard for the commanding officer of SG-13. "Dave, it's good to see you're okay. Don't worry about that; you guys did a great job under incredible circumstances. We'll get this solved."

"How are my…"

Landry cut off Dixon's obvious question with a smile. Landry knew Dixon's dedication to his team well. "Doctor Lam and her staff say they'll make full recoveries but they'll be off duty status for a while. Balinsky took the worst: grade two concussion, two broken ribs and some lacerations."

Dixon grimaced and a dark look crossed his face. _Fucking Colonials_. "Yes sir. Thanks for the update. If you'll follow me, we'll get you to the camp; it's a short walk from these ruins."

Mulhern finally looked up and took notice of her location, a look of sheer awe developing on her face. "Oh my God…"

"That seems to be everyone's reaction Ambassador."

With that the group proceeded through the ruins and out into the open air, a platoon of Rangers falling in on all sides to provide security for the short trip. Mulhern looked to Dixon.

"Colonel, I'd like your initial impressions.." Dixon cut off the ambassador with a short wave of his hand, not something a colonel normally did to a high-ranking civilian official.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'd ask if we not talk until we get to the base camp; we're not sure what type of surveillance capabilities the Colonials may have."

Mulhern didn't seem bothered by Dixon's temerity and smiled. "Of course Colonel."

Soon, the small delegation made its way into the camp and into the command bunker. Tables had been set up to accommodate the new arrival and facilitate the discussions prior to meeting the Colonials. The main group, consisting of the Ambassador, Landry, Dixon, Sam Carter, Colonel Gyndon and Mulhern's senior aide sat at a rectangular table facing each other. Dixon noticed the newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Lorne and an Army major he didn't recognize standing off to the side. Laptops, notepads, cups of terrible coffee and other items covered the table. As the discussion started, Dixon related the entire story verbatim to the assembled group, from the initial landings through the capture of his men, ending with their most recent dealings. Through Dixon's recitation, Mulhern and Landry kept remarkably quiet, displaying few emotions, simply listening as Dixon related his tale. As he finished, he looked to both for their reactions. Landry had his arms crossed with a hand on his chin; Mulhern leaned back quietly and exhaled a long breath.

Mulhern smiled slightly. "Colonel, you have my utmost respect. You weathered an incredibly difficult situation with aplomb. I plan to say that in dispatches when I return to Earth."

"Thank you Ambassador."

Landry smiled at his subordinate and leaned slightly forward with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm not often at a loss for words Dave, but you win this month's SGC pool for most interesting story. You did one heck of a job; the question now is: where do we go from here?" With that he looked around the table. "The Ambassador and I have our instructions from the President and the National Security Council but we have been given some latitude based on our negotiations."

Dixon coughed slightly. "The first meeting with their representatives is in three hours."

Mulhern smiled with a predator's grin. This was her territory. "Well then, let's review our agenda."

**Colonial Encampment**

Lee Adama squinted into the sky as he watched the Raptor descend slowly to the Marine camp, its thrusters doing their job of controlling its landing. Lee fidgeted slightly as he adjusted his dress uniform, slightly stiff in its crispness. The last thing he'd ever been expecting to do was this, standing on a far off world wearing his dress uniform waiting to greet high ranking officers, his father among them. A small part of him, unaffected by his normal feelings of anger towards his father, wondered what type of reception he'd receive from the Old Man. He internally lashed at himself for even caring, trying hard to bury that part of his psyche, one he thought he'd expunged. Like everything else in life, he told himself, it was complicated. Standing next to him was Captain Hafoka, still clad in full field gear, still giving off a burning dislike for Lee, not that he gave a frak. He had bigger issues than her at the moment.

Finally, the Raptor touched down and powered down its systems, the side door slowly opening. Lee tensed as his father, outfitted in his own dress uniform, stepped out and walked down the ramp and faced Lee, a neutral look on his face.

Lee and Hafoka snapped to attention but didn't render salutes, mindful of sniper protocols. "Sir, welcome to Kobol."

Lee waited as his father looked at him, suddenly seeing a slightly pinched look in his eyes. "Lee…" Adama took a moment. "It's good to see you're okay."

Lee's demeanor softened for a moment, the baggage between them gone for that second. "Thank you. It was…interesting."

The elder Adama arched his eyebrows, then looked over at Captain Hafoka and merely nodded. The issues related to the landings would be dealt with soon enough; now was not the time.

Lee looked over his father's shoulder and saw the small delegation that emerged from the Raptor. Dr. Baltar strode down the ramp, even that simple act having to be a show. Lee nodded.

"Doctor, welcome to Kobol." From Lee's perspective, the normally smug man looked uncomfortable and unsure of himself, not the normal Baltar reputation.

"Yes…thank you Captain."

With that out of the way, Lee turned back to his father. "Sir, if you follow me, we have a tent set up to meet in and I can brief you fully."

"Lead the way."

The small group walked through the landing area as various Marines, tasked with different responsibilities, stopped what they were doing and snapped to attention. Bill Adama took the time to look around for a moment as they walked, not really admiring the scenery so much as ordering his thoughts before the military side of him kicked back into gear. "So, tell me about this Colonel Dixon. Colonel Tigh says you have a high opinion of him."

Lee nodded. "He strikes me as very professional, though you can detect that he doesn't take himself too seriously. He struck me as level-headed and not easy to fluster. We had him and his people in a tough position and he didn't blink. He could have hung me from a communications tower if he wanted; instead he was searching for a peaceful resolution. That says something."

Bill Adama merely grunted. The entire situation made him uncomfortable for a myriad of reasons. He was not a diplomat and had never claimed to be one; add to that the simple fact that he was presiding over possibly the most important single event since the founding of the Colonies. Internally he wanted to rage at his old friend Oscar Nagala for getting him into this. No matter what though, the leader in Adama knew he had to keep it bottled up. Too much was riding on the day's events and too many lives hung on a thread. "And the rest of these Earthers?"

"The military ones are highly trained and very professional; they've been tight lipped so it gives me the thought that they stress operational security to their people. The two we detained with the civilian scientist identified themselves as part of something called the 'United States Air Force'; the follow-on force they sent through the stargate call themselves 'Rangers' and are from the 'United States Army' as I believe they called it." Lee stopped walking and faced his father. "It's actually pretty confusing. Dixon and his men were in a couple different types of uniforms and mentioned this 'Air Force' as well as something called 'Stargate Command'. The follow-on force, these 'Rangers', wore a different uniform. I'm not sure if this is intentional, to confuse us, or if we're looking at different military services such as we have, like the Fleet, Marine Corps and the Army."

"Excuse me Captain?"

Lee turned and faced Dr. Baltar with a professionally neutral look. He knew the scientist's reputation for being difficult and really wasn't looking forward to unleashing him on the Earthers.

"Yes Doctor?"

"While I know you're not a trained scientist," Lee loved Baltar's little reminder of how unqualified he apparently was and he noticed his father slowly exhale. "I'm curious as to your initial observations about their levels of technological competency. Are they at anything near our level or beyond it?"

Lee took a moment to think about everything he'd scene to that point and it really wasn't much. "Their weapons technology, while slightly different in design, seems about equal to ours. I did get to use one of their hand-held communications devices and it seemed simple enough to operate. Other than that, it's tough to say Doctor. While I was in their camp they were very careful to shield me from seeing too much. I'd say that like this entire situation, we're not getting the whole picture."

Baltar looked pale. "Ah, I see. Well thank you Captain."

Lee looked to his father, who merely crossed his arms and let out a slight grunt. "There's a lot of the picture we're not getting Captain. Let's just get this going."

"Yes sir."

A short time later, the stage was set. By agreement, the SGC had erected a large tent in an open clearing between the base camp and the Colonials' landing zone. Within the tent a large table had been installed covered with blue fabric. Chairs, more comfortable than normally found in such austere conditions, had been placed on both sides. Each camp had brought their own flags, in the case of the Americans those of the United States as well as her military branches. The Colonials seemed to the casual observer to have the larger collection, one for each colony as well as one featuring the winged symbol of the Colonial government. Every detail, down to who would sit at the table and how many soldiers each side could have in the immediate area had been subject to negotiation between Lee and Dixon. Both of them were smart enough to realize that each side, whatever their culture or religious differences, would want to 'save face' as it were so the entire set-up for the negotiations was done with great care and a surprisingly healthy amount of respect between the two sides.

At the appointed time Lee led the Colonial delegation down the worn dirt path, escorted by a platoon of Marines hand-picked not only for their impressive stature but more importantly for their coolness and decision-making. Lee, and by extension his father, had had enough Marine bravado for a lifetime and didn't desire another 'incident'. The group stopped short of the tent and Lee turned to the Marine platoon's NCO.

"Alright Sergeant, you know what to do. Let's make this happen."

"Yes sir." With that the NCO turned to the rest of the platoon. "You know the plan. Cassus, Elon, you go with the delegation. Everyone else, half-circle 25 meters from the tent. Move." The Marines moved out, with the two designated escorts joining the delegation. In their agreement, both sides had agreed to have two soldiers from each side in the tent with the delegations. The Marines had picked two of their largest and most impressive members to make the obvious play at impressing the Thirteenth Tribe. Lee doubted it would work but it was the least of his concerns at the moment. Lee nodded to the rest of the delegation and they entered the tent to await the Earth negotiators.

On the opposite side of the tent and up a small path the American delegation walked at a controlled pace, escorted by a platoon of Rangers mimicking their Colonial counterparts, however unknowingly. The stress, anxiousness and concerns were all the same, if the clothes and uniforms were not. Dixon looked to the Ranger captain leading the group.

"Okay Captain, by the numbers."

"Yes sir." The Captain looked to his men. "First Sergeant, you and Owens with the delegation, everyone else, 25 meter oval. Move out." The remaining Rangers spread out in a fan just as their Colonial colleagues had. The American delegation then entered the tent.

Both sides stood facing each other and for a moment the silence was deathly, giving the entire encounter a surreal feel. Finally, going by the agreed script, Lee looked at the Americans and began to speak.

"Please allow me to introduce the leaders of our expedition. Commander William Adama of the Battlestar _Galactica_, Doctor Gaius Baltar, Doctor Anthem Cyrus and Colonel Lionel Carthan of the Colonial Marine Corps." Each person nodded slightly as they were introduced, with Adama and Carthan maintaining their perfect military posture. Baltar, by contrast, looked surprisingly nervous.

Colonel Dixon looked to the Colonials and began his introductions, using a formal tone not usually associated with his personality. "May I present Ambassador Kathryn Mulhern of the United States Department of State, Major General Hank Landry of the United States Air Force, Doctor Simon Combs, Colonel Jeremiah Glyndon of the United States Marine Corps and Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force."

"Commander." Mulhern made the first move extending her hand across the table. It was a gesture as familiar to anyone on the Colonies as on Earth. Adama responded in kind grasping her hand firmly but not harshly, showing resolve but without any hint of intimidation. That wasn't how this was going to work today.

"Ambassador." He replied formally and carefully, years of dealing with the Admiralty had helped him hone exactly the right tone for these sorts of meetings.

"Let's all take a seat." Mulhern suggested. "I don't know about the rest of you but these heels I'm wearing weren't designed with ancient ruins in mind."

Her statement was well received exactly as it was meant to. Adama recognized it as a way not only to move the talks to their start but also to try and remove some of the tension. It was a calculation just like everything else about her, from her serious but not intimidating wardrobe to her hairstyle, to her jewelry to the shades of her makeup and brand of perfume. All the things the conscious eye simply glazed over but which the subconscious picked up were specifically designed to give an impression of professionalism, of seriousness and firmness, but without stepping over the line into aggression or deception.

Adama took his seat opposite her with a healthy measure of respect, this woman was definitely bringing her A-game to these negotiations, the Foreign Ministry would have to hunt for a true statesman to hold its own against this caliber of negotiator.

"Before we begin." Adama raised. "I would like to offer a formal apology for the actions of certain personnel under my command. Their actions breached the Colonial Code of Military Justice and they will stand before a Court Martial."

"The Marine Corps has clear rules regarding the treatment of prisoners regardless of origin." Colonel Carthan added. "These individuals have breached those rules and tarnished the name and traditions of the Colonial Marine Corps." Carthan ended his statement with a look towards Colonel Glyndon, as if looking for understanding from the American Marine.

"I understand Commander." Mulhern nodded. "General Landry?"

"Colonel Dixon briefed me on the situation and I am satisfied that a Colonial Court Martial would be as impartial and legitimate as one of ours. The SGC accepts this apology."

"In which case the United States Government accepts and appreciates this apology Commander." Ambassador Mulhern returned. "And I hope that we can now progress to the formal contact both our peoples wish and deserve."

"Thank you Ambassador." Adama offered a formal nod. "General."

"Before we settle down to business I think a little context is in order." Mulhern stated. "I've prepared a basic outline of Earth and our policy, enough to give you an overview of whom we are and where we stand." One of her aides began placing the documents before each Colonial, Baltar eagerly flicking through the handful of pages.

"We appreciate your position and the reaches of your authority Commander." Mulhern continued. "My role here is not to negotiate between the IOA and the Colonies as political entities, simply to lay the framework for those formal talks and to come to a temporary arrangement regarding this world, Kobol as you name it."

"What sort of arrangement do you suggest?" Adama asked, steeling himself as he entered the Ambassador's arena.

"We both have a stake in this world, we both recognize it has an important historical relevance and may possibly hold technology we both desire. I'd like to suggest a shared exploration of these ruins by our respective science teams."

"An equal split of Colonial and Earth scientists?"

"That would be our suggestion." Mulhern nodded. "In the future of course we'd like to greatly expand operations here; our initial assessments were from what I understand very intriguing."

"We haven't seen ruins like this anywhere else." Coombs chipped in. "Some elements are familiar but others are a complete mystery."

"Given your historical connections to the civilization that created this place perhaps your teams can help?"

"We certainly could." Baltar affirmed with a charming smile, a smile Mulhern acknowledged but maintained a distance from.

"I believe the historical record is more Doctor Cyrus' department." Adama said, turning to the Colonial professor. "Would you care to liaise with the head of the Earth expedition to set up joint teams?"

"Be a pleasure Commander."

"Then I accept this proposal."

"Excellent." Mulhern smiled. "I'm sure the people with PhDs can work out the details better than we can."

Adama nodded, assuming a PhD was a form of scientific qualification.

"If I may." Baltar looked up from the notes. "Can I just clarify who you represent? I ask because each of you was introduced as members of the United States, correct?"

"That's correct Doctor Baltar." Mulhern recalled his name without effort.

"And I gather from the flag behind you which is duplicated on the shoulder of every soldier I've seen so far that the armed personnel on this world are also members of the United States?"

"Also correct." Mulhern nodded. "However the United States is one nation among the International Oversight Advisory, they are the final authority on Earth policy regarding off world activities."

"But the United States is the senior partner in this organization?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say that, but the US is the largest contributor to the Stargate Program by virtue of us hosting the gate."

"The Stargate, which I believe some of you have already seen in action, has a duplicate on Earth." Landry explained. "Specifically within the borders of the United States at a facility under my direct command. That's why you've seen exclusively US forces on this planet; we are simply the closest and most able to respond. In time I'm sure you'll get to meet many other nationalities, I believe several of the science teams waiting to dig through the ruins here have an international flavor."

"Ahh, outstanding, outstanding." Baltar beamed. "Very interesting device, the Stargate, from what I've been told it has a rotating ring that is covered in symbols, and by selecting these symbols in sequence one activates a, I believe the term is wormhole?"

"That's correct Doctor Baltar." Carter answered.

"Such a wonderfully quaint way to describe what is a fundamental shift in the nature of space and time." He grinned widely at the blonde Colonel, waving his eyebrows. "Wormhole. Quite a worm to tunnel something like that wouldn't you say?"

"Just a turn of phrase Doctor."

"Well of course." Baltar didn't let his smile slip, delivering the full weight of his attention to Carter. "But also curious, after all such a device would require tremendous technological prowess, more than we possess."

"The Stargate was made by an ancient race that predates our civilization." Carter answered carefully.

"One you believe resided here?" Baltar considered. "Well of course you do, they left their gate here didn't they? Amongst other artifacts of similar power and wonder perhaps."

"It is possible, which is why we're offering a joint expedition." Mulhern stepped in. "This isn't charity Doctor Baltar, we want access to that technology as much as you do so we are willing to work together to claim it."

"I think it apparent you've seen technology like this before?"

"Doctor." Adama spoke with the tiniest hint of a growl. "I believe we've already resolved the matter of scientific exploration."

"I just think it's very interesting that everyone in the fleet is very amazed at finding the Thirteenth Colony, these long lost brothers and sisters, even people like you Commander, the epitome of military bearing if I may say."

"You may if it brings you closer to making a point."

"Point? The point is look at them." Baltar gestured wildly. "They don't care. They are going about their business normally as if this is all routine. I'm good at reading people Commander, and while this is a society changing event for us there is not the same sense of awe from our cousins."

"I wouldn't call anything about this routine Doctor." Mulhern replied.

"No, perhaps not, but I'll wager we aren't the first civilization you have encountered. The mechanism on the stargate isn't a combination lock; they are coordinates in space, a location. There are more than two gates, far more, and you have done this before."

Baltar was an arrogant man, ridiculed by many in the fleet, but he was also undeniably smart.

"We have encountered other civilizations, but Colonial society is unique, so this is not a routine mission." Mulhern repeated. "The IOA is prepared to invest a lot of time and resources into our diplomatic dealings with the Colonies."

"How much space have you explored?"

"Quite a lot."

"How many colonies have you settled?"

"Enough to meet our needs."

"Doctor." Adama chided. "This is stepping outside what we're here for."

"Why yes, of course." Baltar settled back in his chair, glancing at Carter. "Actually I have one more question, just one, for the scientifically minded."

"If you must."

"I noticed that among the couple of hundred people here from Earth your racial diversity is much the same as ours. Now normally in a species one expects variation, a lengthy study of Colonial gene stock came to the conclusion that our, err, ethnic makeup was the result of a genetic bottleneck, the sudden reduction in human population. This coincides with the flight from Kobol and I was wondering if your anthropologists had reached a similar conclusion?"

"As a matter of fact yes, there is a theory about a genetic bottleneck on Earth." Carter confirmed. "But it relates to a large volcanic eruption that affected the planetary climate and caused humanity to dwindle to a few thousand individuals."

"It's dated about ten thousand years ago." Coombs offered.

"Predating the Exodus." Cyrus noted. "Now that is interesting."

"While part of me would like to let this discussion run I think we need to finish up the matter at hand." Adama grunted.

"I agree." Mulhern brought them back on topic. "Are we agreed on joint research teams?"

"We are." Adama affirmed. "I also propose we bring in no further military forces to the surface. I will not object if you chose to bring in a fleet from the United States to project a presence in orbit provided it is not more than equal to my fleet."

"That's acceptable." Landry nodded. "We have all we need here for our security obligations."

"I also suggest our armed forces respect each other's zones of control." Adama continued. "I will order all Colonial Marines not to cross into the United States camp or the ruins adjacent. In return I'd ask you to avoid sending troops toward the ruins my people are camped out in."

"We can agree to that in principle." Landry said. "But I'd like to suggest that if we do need to cross each other's camps we do so in small groups with an escort."

"Colonel?" Adama looked to Carthan.

"Agreed." The Marine commander assented.

"However I would suggest free access for scientific teams to roam between camps." Carter spoke up. "Granted some of those people will be military personnel, but they'll already be mixed teams."

"Provided they aren't armed and keep their distance from our command facilities I have no objection." Adama accepted.

"Our camp is clear of the ruins, there shouldn't be a problem." Carthan nodded.

"Can we study the stargate?" Baltar asked. "Even if it is in your little command area."

"We can probably arrange something."

"Splendid, I hope you might explain more about holes to me Colonel." He beamed at Carter. "Wormholes I mean. Naturally."

"On that note." Mulhern exhaled and rose to her feet. "I think we're done, I'm glad we came to a reasonable understanding Commander."

"Likewise Ambassador." Adama also stood along with the rest of the delegations. "I'm happy that rocky start is behind us."

He extended his hand which Mulhern shook with a true smile.

"I look forward to hearing more about the Colonies Commander, perhaps a more informal chat next time?"

"I think I'd like that Ambassador, I extend an invitation to the Galactica for you and your staff as a sign of openness and trust. She's far from the newest ship in the fleet but she's still the finest."

"Thank you Commander, that sounds an excellent idea. If you'll excuse me I have a lot of people waiting to hear my report. I think they're all going to be quite pleased."

The two groups parted amicably, Baltar and Cyrus heading off in one direction while Carthan and the two Adamas headed back toward the waiting Raptor.

"That went a lot better than I expected." Lee exhaled, releasing hours of pent up tension.

"We made progress and didn't start a war, I call that a win." The Commander huffed a laugh. "Even if Baltar almost talked us out of it."

"He did make a good observation though." Carthan expressed. "They've met other groups before, other civilizations."

"Other evacuees from Kobol that weren't recorded in the scrolls?" Lee speculated. "Survivors from after the forefathers left?"

"Perhaps, something for our esteemed scientific colleagues to discover." Adama broke a grin. "If Baltar can keep his eyes on the job and not the opposition."

"Colonel Carter." Lee laughed. "Smart, blonde and pretty. At least he's consistent."

"She had a pulse, which was probably enough." The older Adama chuckled hoarsely. "Keep up the good work son, don't think for one second I don't understand what you risked down here."

"Just doing my job." Lee returned, taking a very slight moment of pride in his father's praise.

"This is going to take some getting used to." Carthan knotted his brow tightly. "A couple of days ago it was just us and the Cylons, then we proved the existence of Kobol, now apparently Earth, and suddenly there's other worlds too?"

"I don't have much reason to doubt them." Lee remarked. "Hopefully Doctor Cyrus can gather some information about these other groups."

"It's something I'll raise in our next meeting now we know we can do business with them." Adama affirmed. "I admit I'm curious about this world we seem to have stumbled into."

"A chance to meet other branches of humanity? Maybe more?" Lee couldn't suppress a smile.

"Or come into contact with threats we never knew existed." Carthan reminded.

"There is also the question of the Cylons and how much of this they know. They do have a presence out here that could be a complication." Adama contemplated. "I think it's worth sharing what we know of the Cylons, if they do try something I doubt they'll make a distinction between us and the Earth natives."

"A common threat might make relations go more smoothly." Carthan suggested.

"It could." Adama agreed. "But I'd call it common courtesy to let our new friends know what sort of a minefield they're walking into."

"If nothing else at least we justified Admiral Nagala's mission." Lee pointed out. "This changes everything."

"All we have to do is not screw it up."

At the same time Mulhern waited for the gate to dial, scrutinizing the ancient device.

"We got what we wanted; I assume Doctor Jackson can handle himself around that man Baltar?"

"Shouldn't be a problem, he'll likely be spending more time with the other team member, Cyrus." Carter observed. "I think I'm going to have to handle Baltar."

"I'm sure that's exactly what he's praying for." Dixon risked a joke, drawing a smile from Landry.

"I'll see if I can send in Felger to back you up." The General offered. "And to kill the mood."

"Something he is amazingly good at." Coombs revealed with immense satisfaction. "Or so I've heard."

"He's full of himself but he does have a brain under all that ego." Mulhern warned. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the dangers."

"No Ma'am, I'm fully aware of operational security." Carter confirmed.

"He took a gamble inviting us up to his ship." Dixon commented. "Let's us take a look at his technology and capabilities up close."

"A gesture of trust." Mulhern recognized. "He isn't a diplomat but he's good, he's playing his hand well. He knows we'll get a ship up there eventually and take a good look at his fleet so what does he lose by bringing us up a few days early? Nothing, but he gains some diplomatic brownie points. This is the sort of man we can cut a deal with, he knows his limits but he also knows how to play his cards."

"So we're going up there?" Landry asked.

"I am yes, but we'll need to clear it with the Pentagon before we release a General officer and head of the SGC."

"Too bad General." Dixon offered fake sympathy. "Because as soon as this offer drops on O'Neill's desk he'll be down from Washington and through that gate like a bullet."

"A chance to look around a big honking space battleship?" Carter broke a wide smile. "In a heartbeat."

"I guess I'll have to catch the next one." Landry smiled, the gate exploding into blue light. "After you Ambassador."

"I'll talk to Captain Adama about our exact spheres of influence." Dixon rounded up. "I don't think it's going to be a problem."

"Keep me informed anyway." Landry ordered. "Things look rosy now but see what happens if we find anything valuable out here. I don't think the Commander would backstab us, but I wouldn't trust that Baltar guy as far as my dog could throw him."

"Understood sir."

"I'll send Jackson though, and again Colonel, good work."

"Just what they pay me for sir."

**Kobol**

The wormhole twisted and turned, occasionally bypassing nearby stars. Each of these stars that the wormhole passed closely represented a world that had a stargate. Quickly, the wormhole straightened and dove into a bright star.

Daniel Jackson nearly stumbled out of the vertically standing bright rippling pond that was the event horizon of a stargate wormhole.

He was back on PXG-147, or Kobalos, as the ancient script found in the ruins called the planet. This time, he returned because a whole new space-faring civilization was contacted. From the briefing he received at Cheyenne Mountain, that civilization claimed to have a prior claim to the planet and mistook the SG teams to be criminals from the world of that civilization out to loot the ruins.

"Welcome back to PXG-147, Dr. Jackson," said Colonel Dixon who had been waiting. He turned to walk out into the ruins with Daniel, speaking. "Their military leader, Commander Adama, is in orbit. I can understand why: operational security and all that."

Daniel nodded and made sure that his briefing folder was still intact in his briefcase. Few civilizations they've encountered over the years in the galaxy had similar military competence as the nations of Earth. That spoke well of the Twelve Colonies, as that civilization called itself. That also spoke badly for Earth if the Twelve Colonies turned out to be an antagonistic rival.

"What about their civilian leader?"

"Well…." Dixon glanced around at the Earth soldiers patrolling the ruins and scientists making studies here and there. "There are two chief scientists. The de jure one and the de facto one. Thank God the de jure chief is back up in orbit."

Daniel had to keep himself from raising an eyebrow at that. The official chief scientist already made an impression on Dixon, it seemed.

"The de facto chief scientist is over there, taking a look at that group of ruins." The Colonel pointed at an African-looking man squatting down on his haunches in the tall grass near a small and lonely group of broken ruins that Daniel instantly filed as an ornate post-and-lintel type in his archaeologist's mind.

"Thank you, Colonel."

Walking through the tall grass, Daniel noticed what appeared to be a soldier dressed in black kneeling in the wet grass. He had to be from the Twelve Colonies. He was holding white prayer beads and seemed to be whispering a prayer over the beads.

The Earth-man frowned at that. The briefing informed him that the Colonials worshipped the old Greco-Roman gods. As far as he knew, prayer beads were limited to the religions of Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism and Buddhism. The Olympian gods did not inspire people to have prayer beads in Earth's history. Was this a sign of differences between the Colonial religion and the Greco-Roman religion?

Daniel knew he would find out.

Anthem Cyrus used a small fan-shaped brush to wipe some dirt off a broken block of stone, revealing a carving of two faces. One was sad, the other happy. He looked up at the lonely doorway formed by the posts and lintel.

Kobol! There could be no name in the languages of the Twelve Colonies that evoked more feelings of wonder, mystery—and irreparable loss. The world that the Tribes of Man left more than two millennia ago still had power over the modern age. Some had wondered if Kobol was only a myth. Down the centuries, legions of amateur and professional scholars, covering the whole spectrum from sober historians to certifiable lunatics, had believed otherwise. They were correct—though not in the way that most of them imagined.

Of all the millions of words about Kobol that have come down from antiquity, the most chilling were these: "The Kobolians never dreamed." Should they be envied or pitied?

Was the story of Kobol and its fall a cautionary tale about people who dared to believe that they could tame nature, who dared to boast that they might even bring Zeus himself under their influence, about how such unrighteous ambition proved to be their ultimate ruin?

And now they were here, on Kobol itself.

The dark dreadlocked man glanced over his shoulder and stood up. There was a young man approaching. Clearly a member of the Thirteenth Tribe, he wore glasses and seemed handsome. There was a charisma about him of the kind that people had to work hard to build up or earned through hard experience. Charisma, either of the inborn or labored-for types, would be very useful in opening the purses of wealthy sponsors for museums and archaeological expeditions. Since this one has been contracted by the chief government and military of the Thirteenth Colony, he had to be someone important. Cyrus hoped that he wasn't someone like Baltar. If Sod's Law really existed, then every world has a Baltar. Cyrus wiped the dirt off a hand on his pants and extended it for a handshake. "I'm Cyrus. Doctor Anthem Cyrus."

Daniel shook the proffered hand. Anthem's accent sounded Canadian, so he assumed that it was the baseline Caprican accent. Wouldn't Dr. McKay love it when he hears there's an entire planet of Canadians out there? "I'm Doctor Daniel Jackson. Anthem? Is that short for Anthemius?"

Anthemius was the name of one of those late Roman Emperors who had valiantly struggled against the decline of the Western Roman Empire but it was too far gone. He was perhaps the last capable Western Roman Emperor.

"No. It's short for Rhadamanthys. Rhadamanthys Cyrus. My friends call me Anthem."

Daniel smiled, putting on his diplomatic face. "Then I hope to be your friend, Anthem."

Cyrus, for his part, was relieved that Daniel, and most people for that matter, did not know about the Sarantine Emperor Anthimos, sometimes called Anthimos the Drunk. He was foolish enough to favor a courtier to the point of divorcing his wife and marrying her off to that courtier. He was foolish enough to believe a rumor that the same courtier, Krispos, plotted to assassinate him so he sent a hired assassin against Krispos who then subverted the assassin enough to kill Anthimos instead, thus paving the way for him to become the Golden Emperor Krispos.

Moreover, Daniel didn't seem to be as stuffy as certain persons Cyrus could name.

Daniel took out the briefing folder from his briefcase and looked at a list of Colonial names. He mentally groaned at his action. That made him feel like a lawyer or an accountant, but he was required to know everything there is to know about the Colonials. "I don't see a Cyrus in the list. But there's a Rhadamanthys Cyrus Ataiun. Is that you?"

Cyrus ground his teeth. The godsdamn Colonies' constant bureaucratic refusal to accept him as Dr. Cyrus instead of Dr. Ataiun. "Don't call me that. Long story."

An awkward silence fell upon the two men. Daniel was distracted by the thought that 'Anthem' was similar to the name Antemos which was ancient Greek for 'opponent' and was speculated by Saint Victorinus of Pettau to be one of the possible names for the Antichrist with the numerological value of 666. Daniel mentally shook his head. Now wasn't the time to be distracted by historical trivia. He was determined not to have Anthem, or any of the Colonials, be his opponent.

"Well, Dr. Cyrus, what brings you to Kobalos?"

Anthem arched an eyebrow at the use of the planet's archaic name. "Actually, it's Kobol now." The Colonial archaeo-anthropologist narrowed his eyes as he cocked his head. "Do you have that name in your mythology?"

"Kobalos? No. I found it among the inscriptions in the ruins. Our official name for this planet is PXG-147."

Anthem was bewildered. "PX…?"

"I know." Daniel shrugged. "Call it military intelligence."

Anthem had to smile at that. "So you don't know about Kobol?"

Daniel caught an undercurrent of hope in Anthem's voice. He wondered why though the briefing told him that the planet was supposed to be holy to the Colonials for some reason. "Well, not exactly…. In the ancient Persian language, 'kobol' means paradise or heaven. In the ancient Greek, 'kobalos' means 'mine' or 'source'. In the Mormon religion, there's a star in the center of the universe called Kolob, which is supposed to be the 'star nearest unto the throne of God.'"

Cyrus noted the singular form of the deity mentioned by Daniel. He would ask of it later. He was not a priest prepared to jump at every reference to religion. "So you don't remember Kobol but there are hints of it in your mythologies and languages?"

Daniel didn't want to confirm as there's no scientific support for that basis. But he also didn't want to offend Cyrus' sensibilities. "You…could say that."

"Fascinating. That could make sense if you've been out of contact with the other tribes for about four thousand years."

"So your people believe you've been out of contact with Earth for four thousand years? That's long after the rebellion against Ra on Earth."

"Ra?"

Daniel bit his tongue. He had been under orders not to discuss the Goa'uld until they could gauge how much the Colonials revered their gods and how well the revelation of their gods being parasitic aliens would be received. He wanted to say that Earth and the Colonies were out of contact because of the Goa'uld abducting people from Earth and planting them all over the galaxy, including the Twelve Colonies.

But there was a discrepancy. The rebellion against Ra was supposed to be the last time Earth had any contact with the Goa'uld Empire and the galaxy at large. If what Cyrus said was true, then the Colonies, or at least Kobol itself, did not know of Earth until at least a thousand years after Ra left Earth.

Cyrus' question suggested that the Colonials were not aware of the Goa'uld Supreme System Lord. That was another small mystery that Daniel was determined to solve. Perhaps memories of the Goa'uld had been erased from the Colonial psyche and the history books rewritten to reflect that?

That wouldn't be the first time that happened.

"Oh, a god that the ancient Egyptians worshipped." At least, Daniel was telling the truth. After a fashion.

Cyrus, for his part, was puzzled. As far as he could tell from the Sacred Scrolls, the Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol two thousand years before the other tribes left for the Colonies. Since the Sacred Scrolls were supposed to have been published 3,600 years ago, some, including Cyrus, theorized that Kobol remained in contact with the Thirteenth Colony for at least three hundred years. Surely, that was long enough to leave a mark of Kobol larger than vague linguistic memories on the Earth psyche.

And what Daniel said implied that Earth had at least one civilization before the Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol.

"Are you really from the Thirteenth Colony, Dr. Jackson?"

"If you mean Earth by the Thirteenth Colony, yes, Dr. Cyrus." Daniel took a deep breath. "However, Earth was not colonized by people from Kobol or from any other planet." There. He did it.

"Then…how did humans come to live on Earth?"

"Humanity evolved on Earth."

Cyrus stared, letting that statement sink in. "It cannot be, Dr. Jackson. Kobol is the mother-world of humanity. Humans rose on Kobol, then left to colonize the Thirteen Colonies, including Earth."

Daniel sighed as he shook his head. He remembered what happened when he dropped that particular bombshell on the Bedrosians. People had reacted unkindly to the revelation that all humans came from Earth, but the Bedrosians went the extra mile by torturing SG-1. "I'm sorry; Dr. Cyrus, but we are not this 'Thirteenth Tribe' despite your legends of Earth. Besides, if the Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol long before the other twelve tribes, wouldn't they be called the First Tribe and Earth be called the First Colony?"

Cyrus nodded slowly, suppressing the temptation to retort. "Yes…but we have evidence that humanity rose on Kobol. Our civilization dates back to over twenty thousand years of recorded history. I admit that past the Exodus from Kobol, the records are sparse, even spotty. The fact remains is that Kobol is humanity's mother-world."

"We have evidence that humanity originated on Earth. Fossil evidence. The first anatomically modern humans originated in the continent of Africa about 200,000 years ago. They reached full behavioral modernity about 50,000 years ago."

Cyrus, though still feeling turmoil over Earth's claim as humanity's mother-world, was intrigued. Was Daniel speaking of human evolution? Back in the Colonies, that was only a theory with no evidence to back it up. The theory came up only because of studies of the worlds' pre-Colonization native life that Kobolian life-forms had displaced. Fossils of ancient pre-Colonization life were found and used as a basis for the theory of evolution. The question of whether Kobolian life evolved or were created whole by the gods created intense dispute in academic circles. It was hoped that an examination of Kobol and its fossils would provide answers. In the meantime, Daniel was still speaking.

"We have cities and structures dating further back than when your Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol. Maybe that tribe left to _return_ to Earth. The oldest continuously inhabited city on Earth is Jericho which dates back to 9000 Before the Common Era…umm…11,000 years ago."

Cyrus frowned, once again suppressing the knee-jerk retort rising within him. He had always pursued facts rather than the truth because the truth can be very subjective. His visceral reaction surprised him considering his skepticism about things relating to the Sacred Scrolls. Perhaps his reverence for the scriptures went deeper than he thought. What reason would Daniel have to lie or misrepresent facts? He knew more than many people that facts could be interpreted in ways to present subjective truths. "We will have to excavate and investigate Kobol further. I'm sure we'll find evidence that humanity evolved on Kobol. How else would we have over twenty thousand years of recorded history? How else would we be unaware of Earth until the Thirteenth Tribe arrived at that planet?"

Daniel rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek. This was a sensitive point. "Perhaps for some reason, your history was rewritten?"

"Certainly not!" Cyrus was scandalized. "Our records are backed up by artifacts! We have artifacts from Kobol that we've dated to be older than the Thirteenth Tribe's Exodus. If humanity originated on Earth, surely, you'd know more about Kobol than we do about Earth!"

"That's…a question the historical community would need to answer later," conceded Daniel.

"Why, we have several names for Earth! Tara and Pamant in Old Gemenese, Gaia in Tauronese, Terra in Ithacan and Leonese, Avani in the Sacred Tongue, Geb or Kheb in Chandaran, and other variations like Ofiu, Ofiukon and Ophion all deriving from the ancient name of Ophiuchus, which is also called Serpentarius and Serpens."

Daniel's eyebrows rose. Looking from outside, Earth, or more accurately, the star Sol is part of the Ophiuchus constellation. Sometimes Ophiuchus is included as the thirteenth sign of the zodiac. That meant Cyrus was indeed referring to his own home world when he mentioned Earth.

Cyrus added, "And there's 'Earth' in Caprican and the Federal Koiné, which you use for your home world."

It was a mystery that the Colonials and Earthers would use the same names for the planet Earth. Daniel took his glasses down for a cleaning with his shirt, a nervous habit of his. He recognized the other names which existed in the respective languages of Rumanian, Greek, Latin, Sanskrit, and Ancient Egyptian. That, more than anything, strongly suggested contact between Earth, Kobol and the Twelve Colonies in some way and form.

If the Thirteenth Tribe really left Kobol to settle on Earth, that'd be during the time of the Middle Kingdom of Egypt, the construction of the first Minoan palaces in Crete, the decline and fall of the Indus Valley Civilization, the completion of Stonehenge in England, the Akkadian Empire in Babylon, the rise of the Hittite Empire, the Xia Dynasty in China and the Olmec civilization in Mesoamerica and the end of the Middle Jomon Period of Japan.

There was nothing about a group of people coming from the stars to settle on Earth. Daniel did not subscribe to the ancient astronaut theory except when it concerned the Goa'uld. Until they could find out more, he and Cyrus were at an impasse even though Daniel knew for certain that humanity originated on Earth.

A shout came from the other side of the ruined city: "Secure Casey!"

It was a Colonial soldier giving orders to other soldiers. "Casey?" wondered Daniel aloud, glad for the distraction from the Earth-Kobol question.

Cyrus was also glad of the interruption. "Oh, it's actually two letters: 'KC'. It's the new military term for this ruined city. 'Kobol City'." Anthem rolled his eyes. "Typical Capricans. It's because of them that we have 'Picon City' instead of Queenstown, 'Tauron City' instead of Minos and 'Virgon City' instead of Boskirk. What's the principal or capitol city of Earth?"

"Depends on what you mean. If it's the politically most important, it's Washington, DC. If it's the economically most important, it's New York."

Anthem raised a finger, slipping into his professorial role. "Mark my words, Daniel, when we come to Earth, the Cappa fraks will be calling it 'Earth City.'"

"Oh boy."

"Exactly."

Wouldn't O'Neill love that, thought Daniel sarcastically. He once more asked, "What brings you to this planet?"

Anthem looked up at the sky, imagining the expedition fleet still in orbit above. "Kobol is the mother-world of humanity. It's where the thirteen tribes came from, whatever you say about Earth and its origins. We want to know our past. Once, we lost Kobol but now we are back."

Daniel was intrigued by the fact that the Colonials knew about Earth but did not think that humanity came from there. He wanted to correct that again, but it was too early in their relationship. He had caused worlds to become hostile when he tried to correct their belief systems. The Bedrosians came to mind once more. He wasn't about to be responsible for the Colonials to turn hostile against Earth again, especially when they were this close to shooting each other.

Anthem looked back down to Daniel. "We also came because of a…'clava thessara infinitas'."

Daniel was startled. "The 'Key to Infinite Treasure'?"

His counterpart widened his eyes. "You don't know much about Kobol but you know that one?"

"Well…there are legends that say an ancient people stored away vast riches, including weapons, before they…left." Ascended, Daniel amended mentally. "But we've concluded that to be a hoax."

Anthem shook his head. "The phrase was on the Galleon Stone, which contained the map that led our fleet to Kobol. It was also in a legend from the ancient Second Kingdom of Chandara on Caprica. That legend spoke of how the Lords of Kobol hid the key to a vast storehouse of riches before they ceased walking among us, of how two goddesses, Athena and Qetesh, searched for this treasure and failed to find it."

Daniel privately wondered if the two Goa'uld System Ladies had visited Caprica, specifically, this kingdom of Chandara, to find the treasure of the Ancients. And yet the Colonials apparently knew nothing of the Goa'uld except as the Olympian gods. He'd make sure to ask Vala.

"Interesting," was all that Daniel said.

"Well, if you're interested in our mythology and stories…." Anthem stooped down to take a very thick leather-bound book from his satchel on the ground and handed it to Daniel. "Read this. It's a complete version of the Sacred Scrolls. Of course, it's nothing like walking through the Grand Pantheon in Illumini on Gemenon. They have temples dedicated to every deity ever mentioned in the Sacred Scrolls, including the One Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken."

Daniel briefly opened book, letting the pages flip a bit. He saw that it was completely hand-written and hand-drawn. Considering the advanced technology shown by the Colonials, the Twelve Colonies had to have printing technology. Perhaps printing sacred scriptures may be taboo, similar to the Jewish tradition of the sefer Torah, and until the 20th century, the Muslim Quran.

Anthem reached out and opened the book in Daniel's hands, flipping the pages until a picture of the City of the Gods was shown. "This is Kobol. We're standing right here, at the Opera House."

Daniel was fascinated to see that the Colonials knew what the ruined city looked like in the distant past. It looked like a modern city. So this post and lintel structure that stood next to the two men was all that remained of the massive-seeming Opera House. He turned a page to find a picture of a domed structure with flowing water fountains and people mingling. From what he could read, it was the Temple of Aurora on Earth. Perhaps the Scrolls could be used to find clues as to what happened to the Thirteenth Tribe on Earth, if indeed they arrived there. Daniel appreciated Anthem's gesture, so he had to give him something.

"We found some structures here before you came." Daniel took another folder from his briefcase and opened it to reveal photographs. He pushed the thought out of his mind as he opened a folder, revealing photographs. Anthem was reminded of the alien-ness of the Thirteenth Tribe in the little details as he noted the 90 degrees corners on the photographs. At the moment, all Anthem could see were pictures of the ruins of the City of the Gods.

"We found records of the city's name. Or names, actually. I'm still not sure if the inhabitants called it Taranta or Theopolis or the City of the Gods."

"Read the Sacred Scrolls. Those names are in there."

Daniel nodded, accepting the fact for later review. Pointing to one picture, he said, "This is one of the few buildings we found to have signs identifying it. As you can see, the sign is in Ancient, or Proto-Kobolese, as you call it. 'Library of Hephaestus.'" He shuffled the pictures and showed another, saying, "This one is called 'Maniae Asylum.' The society on this planet was as modern as any on Earth."

Anthem darted a look up at Daniel. "Or any in the Colonies."

The Earth man nodded in concession and agreement. "But the city seems more advanced than Earth in one respect: the inhabitants used crystal technology in their lights, power and computers."

"Sunstone technology," confirmed Anthem. "The Sacred Scrolls speak of it. It's similar to what was used at Poseidos before it sank into the ocean at Caprica."

So the Colonials have heard of the crystal technology used by the Ancients. Daniel decided to take a risk. "What do you know about Olympus?"

"It's the mountain of the Gods. Supposedly, men and gods lived and mingled together in paradise on Kobol until the Gods began to live separately from the men at Olympus at the beginning of Man's fall from grace. If you read the Book of Theogony in the Sacred Scrolls, you'll read of Prometheus' deception that angered Zeus. In a settling of accounts between mortals and immortals, Prometheus placed two sacrificial offerings before the King of the Gods: a selection of beef hidden inside an ox's stomach—nourishment hidden inside a displeasing exterior—and the bull's bones wrapped completely in 'glistening fat'—something inedible hidden inside a pleasing exterior. Zeus chose the fat. That set a precedent for future sacrifices and henceforth, humans would keep the meat for themselves and burn the bones wrapped in fat as an offering to the gods. Zeus was angry and withheld the gift of fire from humanity. Immediately afterwards, Prometheus stole it and introduced the knowledge of fire, which we interpret to be technology, to the humans. The Gods punished Prometheus by chaining him to a mountain peak and letting an eagle eat his liver every day. At the same time, the Gods created Pandora, the first woman, to bring trouble to the mortals in the form of a box and the form of female wiles. Surely, you know this story, Daniel."

"Yes, I do," confirmed the Earther. There were differences, but overall, it's the same as what he knew of Greco-Roman mythology. It was very interesting to him. He wondered if the Colonial name 'City of the Gods' was really a reference to the city-ship itself, not the ruined capital city of Kobol? That confusion may have been wrought by the passage of time.

"But what does this have to do with Olympus?"

"It's uhh…well, it's a city-ship."

Anthem stared. "A city-ship."

"Yes. It was built by the Ancients. We found it on the other side of those mountains over there."

Anthem was still staring. He was remembering the translation problem he had with the Galleon Stone as he worked with Dr. Rhea Carroll:

_Anthem said, "The first pylon runes: Nos magisteri viae in valde zona astriae. Nos eo in Olympus uban traba tectum de nationis omnis. 'We are the teachers of roads in the great belt of stars. We travel in Olympus, uban traba, shield of all nations.'"_

"'Uban traba'?"

"I'm having difficulties with that part. It either means 'ship', 'city', or both or something else entirely like 'high place'."

"Olympus? So these Ancients could be the Lords of Kobol? Isn't Olympus supposed to be a mountain? Uban traba must mean 'mountain'. Odd thing to say, to travel in Olympus, isn't it?" Rhea looked at Anthem skeptically. "Maybe there's a translation error somewhere."

Anthem finally understood. There was no translation error. The error was the view of Olympus as solely a mountain where the Gods lived. "Dr. Jackson, do you have pictures of…Olympus?"

Daniel looked down at the open folder. He shut it close and grinned widely. "You know what? I think it'd be better for you to see in person. Nothing like seeing things up close and personal."

A Raptor launched itself from a clearing, causing tall grass to bow backward among the ruins of a lost city. Soon, it accelerated into the sky. Inside, Daniel and Anthem huddled in their seats. A member of SG-6 sat with the pilot to give him directions.

Daniel did not much like the close space of this aerospace craft and almost regretted his decision to bring Cyrus to Olympus. He didn't like helicopters but at least their windows provided the illusion of space in the small aircraft. He pushed the thought out of his mind as he looked around at the equipment in the Raptor.

The Raptor rumbled and dropped like a stone for a moment. Both Anthem and Daniel had their hearts in their throat. The pilot yelled out, "Sorry! Bad wind shears! Hold on, this can be a little thrilling!"

_Thrilling, he says_, thought Daniel. In his time in SG-1, he had a hell lot more than his share of thrills.

Anthem pointed at the pilot's window. "There it is! The Gates of Hera."

Up ahead, Daniel could see the twin mountains that he traversed before. He turned back to Anthem, about to tell him about his trek through it. He stopped. The look on Anthem's face told him that the Colonial was having feelings similar to what Daniel would feel upon seeing Ancient Egypt for the first time, or seeing that larger copy of the Great Pyramid on Abydos for the first time. He hid a smile. He understood the feeling. It had to be reinforced by the fact that this planet was holy ground to the Colonials. It'd be tantamount to finding the Garden of Eden or any other such confirmation of mythologies back on Earth. The Sacred Scrolls, the Bible, it was all the same to Daniel.

The present weather gave the twin peaks rings of thick clouds, giving it a lush, mysterious feel. The Raptor was soon sweeping through the mountains. Outside the windows, Daniel could see cliff walls racing by, uncomfortably close. The Raptor bounced, hitting up and down wind drafts. The clouds were thicker deep in the mountains so that the craft seemed to be flying through fog.

The fog soon gave way. Outside, they could see the remains of the city-ship Olympus. Broken towers reached up from the thick forest foliage. Anthem took all of this in with wide eyes.

Daniel smiled again. The Garden of Eden, indeed.

Anthem was eagerly taking in everything he was seeing in the city-ship. At the moment, he and Daniel were standing in the Gate Room in the central spire. An inactive stargate, an almost exact copy of the one that the Earthers came through in the ruined city, stood in the usual place. Though Olympus was not completely operative, lights and some of the computer consoles shone. Everything spoke of highly advanced technology and hinted at more to be discovered. Just like at Atlantis.

Too bad they couldn't take Olympus off the planet. Daniel mentally amended, _Yet_. At the moment, the stardrive was inoperable for some reason and much of the city was still buried. As far as they could tell, the city-ship once floated in a crater lake. Over time, the lake dried up and mudslides filled the lakebed halfway up the city's towers and spires.

It'd take a major excavation to free the city-ship from the planet's grip. And they still had no idea what made the stardrive inoperable, though Daniel suspected it was battle damage.

The odd thing was that the stargate itself was inactive. The DHD console could not be activated. Some of the technicians suspect that this was deliberate and they only needed to find a password or a series of it to re-open the gate.

"What does that say?"

Daniel was pulled out of his reverie by the question. "What?"

Anthem pointed at the Ancient writing on the steps leading up to the control room. Daniel obligingly searched for a piece of paper from his folder and, having found one, handed it to the Colonial archaeologist. Upon reading it, Anthem arched an eyebrow.

Daniel could only shrug. It was the exact same message as that written on the steps at Atlantis:

WE HOLD THESE AS THE TRUTH

A HEARTY WELCOME TO THOSE OF OTHER WORLDS  
VISITING OUR HOME FOR THE FIRST TIME WELCOME AGAIN  
TO THOSE RETURNING YOU HAVE BEEN GONE TOO LONG AND YOUR  
ABSENCE HAS WEIGHED HEAVILY ON OUR SOULS WE ARE  
WHOLE AGAIN THAT YOU ARE AMONG US AND WE CELEBRATE YOU BEING HERE AGAIN  
AS WE LEAVE FOR DISTANT WORLDS WE PLEDGE TO RESPECT THE LANDS OF  
OUR NEIGHBOURS AND TO ACT WITH INTEGRITY AS AMBASSADORS IN PEACE TIME  
OF OUR PEOPLE TRAVELLERS WITH OPEN HEARTS WILL ALWAYS BE WELCOME REFUGEES FROM TYRANNY MAY SEEK SHELTER UNDER OUR ROOF

AND OUR PEOPLE WILL LAY DOWN THEIR LIVES TO PROTECT THE WEAK AND THE JUST LET THIS BE OUR PLEDGE TO THOSE  
INHABITANTS OF THIS WORLD AND ALL WE MAY EVER KNOW WE WILL ALWAYS STRIVE TO COME IN PEACE AS WE GO IN PEACE AND YOU WILL BE WELCOME ON OUR SHORES FOREVERMORE

Anthem felt confused and slightly repulsed, perhaps even a little scandalized. This made Olympus sound like a tourist center. Surely, the First Civilization, much less the Lords of Kobol themselves, did not peddle to tourists!

He'd have to make himself a lot more familiar to Proto-Kobolese to verify the translation. He had only the past few weeks to familiarize himself with the too few samples of PK available in the database he'd brought from Caprica.

Never would he imagine himself stepping into a story straight out of the old futurist fiction show _Star Cluster Patrol_.

"We assume that this message is inscribed in all of the Ancients' city-ships. It's exactly the same as what we found at Atlantis."

"Atlantis?"

Daniel knew he should not have mentioned that city-ship. It was too late. "Well, we found a city similar to this one on another planet. It was the basis for our legends of a lost island-city that was powerful and advanced until it sank into the ocean in a cataclysm."

"Ah, just like our Poseidos." Seeing Daniel's question on his face, Anthem explained. "It wasn't a city of the First Civilization. Poseidos was one of the First States founded in the Colonies when our ancestors came from Kobol. It was the most advanced city-state in the Colonies, capable of fielding primitive spacecraft and of using sunstone technology. At the height of its power, it sank into the ocean. It was the last bastion of Kobolian science against the Era of Darkness and Anti-Science that held all of the twelve worlds at the time of Colonization."

"Interesting," said Daniel. He wasn't saying that just to be nice. The Colonies, it seemed, had their own Atlantis legend, but a tangible one this time. And it was also interesting to note that the legends were also based on an advanced island-city that sank beneath the waves. He wondered what other similarities that Earth and the Colonies shared. They began to climb the steps up to the Control Room level.

"Did you find anyone here?"

Daniel cocked his head in puzzlement. Anthem elaborated by saying, "You know, the inhabitants of this city. Alive or dead."

"Oh. We didn't find any bodies." Daniel frowned. That mystery was adding to the mystery of the paucity of bodies everywhere on this planet. "It's as if everyone in the city left. That, or they all Ascended."

"Ascended?"

"Many of the Ancients umm…evolved themselves or raised themselves into higher planes of existence."

"Oh, ascension, as in apotheosis?" Anthem showed his skepticism at that. "Yeah, we have stories of how the gods lifted mortals and demi-gods into the heavens and made them gods. Many of the stories use the divine food ambrosia for it." He smirked. "We have ambrosia, only we drink it and we don't become gods with it. Of course, a few drunk on it might believe otherwise."

Daniel hid his discomfort behind an appreciating smile. He had to concede that most myths and legends have grains of the truth in them. Some might say that the Ascended beings had god-like powers, but Daniel knew that they were not gods. Who was to say that some Ascended beings like Oma Desala did not help mortals like Hercules and others achieve Ascension? Assuming that the legendary people like Hercules were based on facts, that is.

"A monotheist church in our history," Anthem was saying, "tried something like ascension. They used the V-World, virtual reality technology, to create an artificial heaven for those who died. The Monad Church called that Apotheosis." He shook his head. "That disastrous madness of a blasphemy was one of the factors for the Cylon Rebellion. Billions died in that war."

Daniel was getting more and more uncomfortable. The idea of creating a false heaven for the dead with virtual reality technology repulsed him. He didn't want to stumble into sensitive territory. The relationship between Earth and the Twelve Colonies was still too new. "Ah, um, the Ancients did not use technology to achieve Ascension, though they reportedly did use technology to research the concept."

Anthem envied the Thirteenth Tribe's seemingly intimate knowledge of the First Civilization. Once more, he wondered why they knew so much about them and yet did not know much about Kobol or revere the Lords of Kobol. "If these 'Ancients' as you call them, the ones who lived in Olympus, the builders of the First Civilization achieved Ascension, wouldn't that imply that the Ancients are the Lords of Kobol themselves?"

Daniel shrugged uneasily. He knew that the Ancients tended not to take the personas of gods. In fact, the Ancients looked down on the practice. It was more likely that the Greco-Roman gods that the Colonials worshipped were Goa'uld System Lords. He knew some of them: Cronus, Ares, Pelops and Athena though he couldn't figure out why the Goa'uld were not aware of Kobol if the Colonial gods truly originated on Kobol. He didn't want to offend Anthem so he said, "I truly do not know. I don't think so."

They arrived at the landing of the steps. Daniel took this opportunity to retreat from this sensitive territory to say, "Shall we continue the tour?"

Anthem arched an eyebrow at the unintentional reference to the Ancient words of welcome inscribed on the steps.

"What's this?"

Daniel looked at what Anthem was pointing at a computer console in the Control Room. A small screen showed several short red lines stacked in a column. "Oh, um, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to show you this but in the spirit of our cooperation…." He pressed a key to call up the Ancient version of an encyclopedia entry and another screen showed an Ancient drone. To Anthem, it looked like a yellow-glowing squid with a blunt fin-less head and short tentacles. Daniel was saying, "It's an Ancient drone. Ah…a type of missile or torpedo used by the Ancients as a weapon. The arsenal in Olympus is very low, hence the red color. If the arsenal has a lot more of the drones or is full, it'd be green and stacked up to the top."

"Like a fuel indicator."

"Yes. Exactly. Basically, when a drone is launched, it's capable of homing in on anything that you program into it." As if on cue, the image showed the drone glowing brightly, spinning and shooting off out of sight. The drone came back in the screen, inactive.

Anthem frowned at the image of the drone. He quoted, "And the blaze pursued them, and the people of Kobol had a choice. To board the great ship, or take the high road through the rocky ridge." He looked up to Daniel. "The Blaze was the war that destroyed paradise on Kobol. Sometimes our priests call it the Flame Deluge. The word 'pursued' is an odd choice and has been a source of debate for those who think the Sacred Scrolls are important. Many believe that it's only an allegory or a poetic way of describing the war." It was clear to Daniel that Anthem was part of the latter camp. The archaeo-anthropologist gestured at the image of the Ancient drone. "Could it be that the 'blaze' is actually this weapon?"

Daniel gazed at the image in the Ancient computer screen and adjusted his glasses. He'd have to ask to borrow the Sacred Scrolls for study later. "I honestly don't know."

He knew, though, that he didn't like the implications. Ancients using missiles to slaughter an entire population? The Ascended Ancients had done it to the planet Velona, though, but that was only to punish an illegal uplifting operation. "Do you know what caused the war?"

Anthem shrugged. "The Sacred Scrolls say a jealous god wished to be elevated above all the other gods and thus caused the war." He put up a hand to stop Daniel from asking the anticipated question. "We don't know which god. He has no name in the Scrolls. Elsewhere, he's called 'The One Who Must Not Be Named.' Supposedly, this is the same god worshipped by monotheists in the Colonies. He's also the basis for our stories of the Prince of Darkness." He shrugged again as if to show how little he thought of that.

Daniel however was intrigued to find the similarities to a certain god widely worshipped on Earth. In all of his adventures throughout the galaxy, he had yet to find anything referring to something like that particular deity.

Until now.

Anthem was eagerly drinking in the sights of Olympus as he walked with Daniel through a corridor. They were still in the city's central tower. Earth people in military uniforms and white science overcoats walked past them or were working in rooms that Anthem could see through open doorways.

"Daniel, did you pack all of the artwork?"

"What do you mean?" Daniel was caught off guard by the question.

"Well, except those squares of abstract lines that I've seen in some of the rooms, except the abstract stained glass windows, I don't see any work of art."

Daniel now wondered why he didn't notice that. Almost all the civilizations they've encountered had some artwork of some type or other. Only the Asgard and the Ancients didn't seem to have it. "There's isn't any. We didn't find it at Atlantis, either."

Cyrus shook his head. "It's only our art that made all the struggles of civilization worthwhile. All our science, our technology, our mathematics—nothing is unique about them," he said. "These things will be repeated by any sufficiently advanced civilization, anywhere in the universe. They will all discover that energy equals mass and the speed of light squared. But there is only one golden death mask of Queen Almestra, only one Amber Room and only one _Prince of the Lilies_. It is through our art that we really live and breathe. If I could pick only one thing that could survive on our worlds and speak for our species, it would be our art. That's what we have to remember. Only our art should live forever."

Daniel had to agree. People were once willing to risk their lives during both of Earth's world wars to save precious works of art. It slightly disturbed him that the Ancients did not display works of art in their city-ships. As far as he knew, Ancient art focused on architecture and at least one monumental seated statue where O'Neill encountered that Ancient repository of knowledge.

A Canadian soldier led several men and women in civilian clothes past Daniel and Cyrus. They were the first of the Colonials allowed into Olympus to help catalogue and pack some of the Ancient artifacts. Suddenly, Cyrus was startled. He reached out and grabbed the arm of one of the men.

"Hey!"

Cyrus' face blanched as he stared at the man he grabbed. "Do you know…Korben? Korben Cawdor?"

The dirty blond man frowned and said, "I don't know who the frak you're talking about."

Cyrus' mouth opened and closed until he released the man's arm. "I…I'm sorry. It's just that you look exactly like someone I met on Scorpia last year."

The man smiled his acceptance of Cyrus' apology. "It's all right. No harm done." With that, he hurried to catch up the group of Colonials still being led by the Canadian soldier.

"What was that?" asked Daniel.

Still staring at the man's retreating back, Cyrus said, "I could have sworn that he's Korben's twin brother. Korben murdered a friend of mine on Scorpia while trying to steal a valuable artifact from us. In fact, the exact artifact that allowed me to decipher and open the Galleon Stone, and find the map to Kobol."

Daniel shrugged. "I've heard that sometimes people have doppelgangers—people who look like them but are not related to them. If you have a large enough population, the genetic dice would hit the same number at least twice."

"Even down to the unshaven look, the hair color and facial expression?"

Daniel shrugged again. He had no answer to that even though he could see that Cyrus was shaken.

"What's he doing here?"

The Earth archaeologist checked the list of approved personnel in his folder. "He was hired to help with the packing and shipping."

"His name?"

"Leoben Conoy."

"And here is what we call the hologram room."

Daniel and Anthem entered a large chamber that had a low dome for a ceiling. There was a small platform with a pedestal or console near the entrance. Daniel continued speaking.

"It's exactly the same as what we found at Atlantis. But unlike at Atlantis, we have never been able to activate the holographic records we're sure to find in this room. We think the activator has been configured to a different genetic code. We've tried to use the ATA, the Ancient Technology Activation genetic code and it doesn't work."

Anthem eyed the platform. "Do you think it'd work with me?"

Daniel shrugged. "Can't hurt to try. It's doubtful. ATA is very rare."

Anthem stepped to the platform but didn't stand on it. He looked over a shoulder at Daniel. "What do you think we'll find?"

"Hopefully an explanation of what happened here."

Anthem squared his shoulders and stepped onto the platform. The console lit up. Then nothing happened. He looked back to Daniel.

Daniel was silently looking at the console. When the Earthers tried it, the console didn't even light up. He had wondered if it was configured to Colonial genetics, specifically the Colonial version of the ATA. It'd make sense that the Colonials would have a slightly different genetic makeup to that of the Earthers. They had at least four thousand years of genetic drift and divergent evolution.

"It's not doing anything," said Anthem.

"Not exactly. That didn't light up when we tried it." On a sudden hunch, Daniel stepped up onto the platform and stood beside Anthem.

A hologram formed and coalesced into a haughty woman in white flowing robes with a metal sash on her abdomen. An invisible breeze was blowing her robes about. The sash showed a glowing emblem that both Daniel and Anthem recognized to be an abstract of a peacock's fanned tail. She made Daniel and Anthem feel like she was a displeased queen. The holographic woman spoke:

"_We commit this space to the epilogue of our ending. Let it be found by they who are deemed worthy. Let it guide them. Let it shape their path forward. Let it save those we leave behind."_

Anthem reached toward the woman. "Who are you?"

Instead of answering, the hologram faded away. In the far side of the chamber, a small door opened.

"Hello," said Daniel, cocking his head. "That wasn't in the blueprints."

Anthem glanced at his partner. "You mean Atlantis doesn't have that?"

"As far as I know, nope." Daniel jumped down the platform and ran to the entrance behind them. He knew he had to call for others to come join them. But the door did not slide open at his approach. Puzzled, he waved a hand over the door's control panel. That did nothing.

"It's locked." Daniel pressed the communication button on his walkie-talkie. That also did nothing, not even an indicator light coming on. "We're stuck in here."

Anthem stepped down from the platform. "You're an archaeologist, aren't you? It's clear that this is a test."

Daniel sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation as he realized that Anthem was right. "Why is it always tests with the Ancients?"

The two men, one from Earth and one from the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, crossed the chamber together and went through the door. They found a closet-sized room behind the door. Daniel recognized it.

"It's a transporter."

"A what?"

"It's the Ancient version of the elevator, or the lift. It works on principles of teleportation." Daniel pointed at a dark panel in which only one pinpoint of light glowed. The panel did not have the usual outlines of a city-ship to indicate the location of the pinpoint. "It's strange, though. This transporter has only one possible destination. And it's not telling us where it is."

Anthem looked around nervously. In his experience, ancient tests were never really easy. He remembered the ones he went through in the Otori Temple in the jungles of Medra back on Scorpia where his friend Dr. Casus Sandral died. And those tests were of the primitive variety. "Should we…?"

Daniel was also uneasy. "There's nothing else we could do." He touched a finger to the light. Instantly, the door closed and a bright light flashed, causing Daniel and Anthem to close their eyes.

When they opened their eyes, they found the transporter door to be open. A thick curtain of leafy vines covered it and sunlight shone through gaps in the natural curtain.

Anthem realized he had been holding his breath. He released it. "That was as if the First Civilization developed a kind of personal FTL. The flash of light, the teleportation…."

"You could say that."

"Where are we?"

The two men looked at the sun-dappled vines covering the open doorway. Exchanging a puzzled look, Anthem and Daniel pushed aside the vines and struggled to step through out of the transporter. It turned out that the transporter had deposited them on the ridge between the twin peaks of the Gates of Hera.

Immediately, Daniel tried his radio. It still wasn't working. "Damn."

Anthem stared at the outline of a stone arched doorway set into a cliff.

"Yeah, I saw that when I came through here," said Daniel. "I believe it's a tomb. We were planning to excavate it after we're done with Olympus and Theopolis."

Voice quavering, Anthem said, "It _is_ a tomb. The Tomb of Athena."

"Athena—? She died?" The more Daniel learned of the Colonial mythology, the more differences he found between it and the Greco-Roman mythology. He wasn't sure how to break it to Anthem that Athena was actually on Earth inhabiting the body of a vice-president of Farrow-Marshall Aeronautics named Charlotte Mayfield. If there was actually an Athena here on Kobol, she was likely to be a clone. If Anubis and Ba'al had done it before, why not one of the other System Lords or two? He wanted to break it to him but he was under orders not to discuss the Goa'uld until approval came down from the IOA while the Colonials were assessed as a potential ally.

"Thus did the Exodus of the tribes from Kobol cause despair in Athena. With Hera standing to bear witness, the Lady of Wisdom threw herself down onto the rocks below the rocky ridge." Something in Anthem's voice made Daniel think that he was quoting. Likely from the Colonial version of the Bible, the Sacred Scrolls. If he was in his shoes and he stumbled into the Garden of Eden, he'd feel compelled to quote from the Bible as well.

Anthem added in his normal voice, "The tomb is supposed to show us the way to the fabled Thirteenth Colony." He glanced at Daniel. "Not so fabled, I guess. Only the Arrow of Apollo could open the way to Earth."

"Why would the transporter take us here?" wondered Daniel aloud. "You know where Earth is now. Do we need the Arrow of Apollo?"

Anthem shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. It's in the Delphi Museum of the Colonies back on Caprica."

"I'm guessing we can't go there now."

Nodding in agreement, Anthem turned to setting a shoulder to the stone arched door and began to push. Daniel added himself to the effort to opening the tomb. The door shifted in an almost imperceptive way. Dust crumbled from the seam between the door and the archway. They nodded at each other, counted to three and pushed hard. The door shifted again. Again, they pushed and the door swung open. The two men fell through into the dark chamber beyond.

Coughing in the billowing dust, they stood up and brushed the dirt and dust off from their clothes. Anthem took a rubber band from a pocket and tied his long dreadlocks together at the back of his head. At a look from Daniel, he apologetically said, "Yeah, impractical, I know. I haven't been in the field for a long time. Not since Scorpia."

Looking around, they saw that the chamber was round and contained damaged marble statues. Twelve statues to be exact, each of them representing a sign in the zodiac and therefore representing each of the Twelve Colonies. Each of them had a human skeleton at the base.

Anthem squatted down to examine the base of the nearest statue. There was a slight discoloration on the marble where the skeleton touched it. The way the body was arranged was unusual: lying on its side, the body's knees seemed to be drawn up to the chest with the heels almost touching the buttocks, and the arms were crossed at the back of the body.

Whoever this person was, he was trussed. Whatever was used to tie up the body had long ago rotted away, along with clothing, if indeed the body was clothed.

The upper half of the skeleton was white while the lower half was brown. He dared not touch either the bones or the discoloration which he recognized to be the result of dried blood left there for two thousand years. The white-brown discoloration of the bones indicated that the individual died of blood loss. He looked around and wondered if the bones were those of the leaders of the twelve tribes who were sacrificed to buy the tribes' passage to the Twelve Colonies. The conclusion seemed to be inescapable.

Human sacrifice.

He remembered the relevant verse in the Sacred Scrolls: _And the body of each tribe's leader was offered to the gods in the tomb of Athena._

Here was evidence that Kobol practiced human sacrifice as described in the Sacred Scrolls. If Anthem published a paper on these bones alone, it'd create a massive controversy, even an uproar, in the Colonies, especially among the religious and those who idealized Kobolian society. He had often discussed the possibility but it was one thing to speculate and another to see the reality.

Daniel pointed at one of the statues. "Look at Sagittarius. It's missing an arrow."

Anthem shook his head, glad for the distraction. "I guess that's where we're supposed to put the Arrow of Apollo. If we're supposed to use it, we're stuck."

"But surely, that hologram didn't intend us to find the way to Earth. My genes, along with yours, activated it. That strongly suggested that the Ancients expected the peoples of Earth and the Colonies to meet."

"Yeah. But look there." Anthem pointed at the far wall. Carved in the middle was a circle with a dot in its center.

Daniel widened his eyes. A circle with a dot in its center.

He said, "Do you recognize this symbol?"

Anthem certainly recognized it. He was more impressed by the fact that Daniel, a member of the lost Thirteenth Tribe, apparently knew it despite the three thousand years of separation between the Colonies and the three thousand years of historical and mythological distortions.

"It's used in alchemy," Anthem said, leaning in closer to examine the embossed symbol. "It's the ancient symbol for gold."

Daniel frowned, though he inclined his head in agreement. "This symbol—a circle with a round dot in the middle—has dozens of meanings. It's called a circumpunct, or a circled dot, and it's one of the most widely used symbols in history."

"Earth also has these meanings?" wondered Anthem aloud.

"The circumpunct has countless meanings. In ancient Egypt, it was the symbol for Ra—the sun god—and modern astronomy still uses it as the solar symbol. In Eastern philosophy, it represents the spiritual insight of the Third Eye, the divine rose, and the sign of illumination. The Kabbalists use it to symbolize the Kether—the highest Sephiroth, or level before knowing God, and the Kabbalah calls it 'the most hidden of all hidden things.' Early mystics called it the Eye of God and it's the origin of the All-Seeing Eye on the United States Great Seal. It represented the purity of the Rosicrucian Rose. The Pythagoreans used the circumpunct as the symbol of the Monad—the Divine Truth, the sole Creator of the Universe, the Prisca Sapientia, the unity of mind and soul, and the—"

Anthem didn't recognize half of what Daniel was saying but he was amazed at how universal the circled dot had been. It was the symbol of the Ancient Mysteries. Heladikos supposedly used it in addition to the infinity symbol to combat the influences of Iblis. In the idiom of symbology, the circled dot was the one symbol that reigned supreme above all others. The oldest and the most universal, this symbol fused all the ancient traditions in a single solitary image that represented the illumination of the sun god, the triumph of the alchemical gold, the wisdom of the Philosopher's Stone, the purity of the Rose, the moment of Creation, the All, the dominance of the astrological sun, and even the omniscient all-seeing eye of Jupiter that hovered above the unfinished pyramid. It was Phos, the light of Kobol and of the gods. The symbol of the Source. The origin of all things.

It was also the symbol of Kobol in Colonial astrology.

It was also the reason why members of the Monad Church touched their forehead in a sign representing their so-called One True God and the related Third Eye. If there was one good thing about the bloody Cylon Rebellion, it was that the Monad Church was destroyed in it, along with its military arm, the Soldiers of the One, and freed Gemenon and the other Colonies from its dangerously absolutist form of monotheism. At a terribly high cost, though.

Anthem stepped forward and tenderly touched the circled dot. He looked back at Daniel. "Are we supposed to do something with it?"

"Maybe." Daniel put a finger to his chin as he thought aloud, "You said this tomb is supposed to show the way to Earth. The astrological symbol for Earth is a circle with a cross inside. Like a compass." He came up to the wall, holding up a finger to the carved symbol. "Like this." He drew a cross in the dust within the circle over the central dot.

Immediately, the tomb's stone door slammed shut, casting the men into darkness. Then a hologram formed in the center of the room, surrounded by the ruined statues. It was the same haughty woman they saw in the hologram room back at Olympus. She still looked displeased.

She said, "_In the beginning, we set our truths to parchment. To stone. To the memory of men. These proved impermanent things. Cleansed by fire. Cleansed by famine. Cleansed by flood. All the worlds are innocent once more. Innocent and ignorant."_

She held out an open hand, gesturing at the two men standing in surprise at her. The hand then swept around to indicate the skeletons lying at the base of each of the statues in the chamber.

"_We did not build them to be wise. And now they are our final, faulted hope. You are they. You possess the potential for understanding."_ Anger crept into her voice._ "But you broke our tools. Or turned them against one another. We have destroyed what we could. Sealed away what we could not. Most. Not all. And it does not take many to unwind the world. Here is a safe place. Eternal. To store objects. Words. Wisdom. But not life. Almost did we have the means. But time…time erodes us. We cannot evade the grasp of time. Not forever."_

The holographic woman faded away. The circled dot symbol glowed blue and then a blue line glowed, delineating an arched doorway in imitation of the tomb's entrance. The stone wall rumbled and the lined doorway slid aside, shedding dust and torn cobwebs. Behind the door was a corridor whose walls, floor and ceiling were filled with Ancient writings which glowed softly with phosphorescence. It reminded Daniel strongly of a corridor in an ancient Egyptian tomb.

The phosphorescent Ancient inscriptions were the only source of light which filled the Tomb of Athena with a combined light not unlike that of the moon in an Earth night.

"Here goes," said Anthem before he walked down the corridor. Daniel followed. The corridor was short and slanted down deeper into the mountain. Beyond was a round chamber similar to the first chamber in size. But it was empty except for a statue of Athena standing on a short pedestal in the center. Athena held aloft what looked like a large diamond which shone brightly.

"A sunstone," gasped Anthem.

Daniel saw that the crystal held aloft by the statue of Athena was a little different from the crystals usually seen in Ancient technology. It was thicker and more faceted, not unlike gemstones used in Earth jewelry. It reminded him of the crystalline part of the Ancient ZPMs.

When the two men entered the chamber, the crystal shone brighter, dispelling the darkness. They saw that there were statuettes set on the floor around the base of Athena's pedestal, twenty in all. There were also four smaller pedestals set equidistant from each other alongside the curving wall. Each pedestal had two circular depressions, obviously meant to hold the statuettes.

Cyrus came up to the first of the four pedestals on the doorway's right. He saw that there was an inscription on the pedestal's face. It was in Proto-Kobolese. Daniel, looking over his shoulder, read it aloud, "It's in Ancient. 'Here sits the king of all Olympus and beside him stands wisdom, to guide his rule.'"

The two men looked at each other. It was clear that they were supposed to take two statuettes to match the description. They ran over to the collection of statuettes, quickly finding the statuettes of Zeus and Athena and setting them into the depressions on top of the pedestal. Almost immediately, a hitherto unseen jewel shone blue between the inscription and the pedestal's top.

Cyrus and Daniel nodded to each other, wordlessly agreeing to work quickly together on this test. The next pedestal said, _Two brothers rest here. One resides fathoms deep, the other at the end of time._

Daniel said, "One resides fathoms deep. That must be Poseidon. But the other one…?"

"Don't you know?" Cyrus chided. "The end of time could mean death."

"Hades?"

"Exactly." Cyrus had to wonder what type of education Daniel had that would neglect a deep study of the Lords of Kobol.

Swiftly, statuettes of Poseidon and Hades were set on the pedestal. An unseen jewel set between the inscription and the pedestal's top also shone blue.

The third pedestal: _The god of rage and strength basks in his lover's radiant beauty. She tames his anger with her gentle touch._

Almost simultaneously, Cyrus and Daniel said, "Ares and Aphrodite."

As soon as the identified statuettes were set in their places, the now-familiar jewel shone blue.

The fourth pedestal: _Together, but never touching. One sleeps while the other rises, yet both watch over us._

"Now I'm stumped at that one."

"I'm not." Cyrus walked over to the collection of statuettes on the floor and picked up Apollo and Artemis. "Brother and sister. Sun and moon."

"Ah." Daniel felt like slapping his forehead.

"I only know this because Artemis is important to my family. If I didn't know, I would have chosen Helios and Selene."

"Important how?"

Cyrus paused as he studied his counterpart's face. Daniel wasn't from the Twelve Colonies so he couldn't know much beyond what he's been told so far on Kobol. He decided there wouldn't be any harm in telling him.

"My family's name, Ataiun, comes from Actaeon."

Daniel recognized the name. "The guy who chased Artemis?"

Cyrus nodded. "As legend has it, the Ataiuns are descended from Actaeon and the goddess Artemis, though there is some dispute about that. Some say Actaeon's pairing with Artemis was one of love, while others say it was a rape. Perhaps it was both. Still others say the pairing never happened as Actaeon was supposed to have died before taking Artemis' virginity. That certainly didn't prevent the Ataiuns from including Actaeon and Artemis in their family genealogy."

Daniel noticed that though Cyrus admitted that the Ataiuns were his family, he verbally distanced himself from them by not using the pronouns 'our' or 'we'. That, added to his insistence at being called Dr. Cyrus instead of Dr. Ataiun, made him wonder what made the Colonial dislike his family. He wondered if some of the Ataiuns had to deal with the idea that they were descended from what amounted to a scriptural pariah or criminal. Perhaps that was a factor in Cyrus' feelings. He wasn't about to pry into matters when he wasn't close enough to Cyrus to do so.

When Artemis and Apollo were set in their pedestal, the jewel glowed blue. This time, each of the jewels in the pedestals now shone a beam of light at the crystal held aloft by Athena's statue. A rumble sounded as the statue lowered itself until its pedestal disappeared into the floor and the crystal in the statue's raised hand glowed bright and shot a beam of light at the back wall of the chamber. A fifth jewel shone where the beam struck the wall. Part of the wall became a doorway which slid down. Once the jewel in the doorway fell out of contact with the beam of light from Athena's hand, all the jewels in the pedestals faded away. This deprived the chamber of light except for the soft moon-like glow of the crystal in Athena's hand, the one that Cyrus called a sunstone.

Beyond the doorway, the corridor was rough-hewn from the rock of the mountain, which was different from the corridor that admitted Cyrus and Daniel into the first chamber. There were no glowing Ancient inscriptions to light the way so Cyrus took a keychain from his pocket and turned on a small flashlight. They could see that the corridor slanted sharply down. Cyrus walked ahead of Daniel.

Halfway down, the ceiling curved down, causing the men to bend over. Looking up at the other side when the ceiling curved back up, they could see a face carved into the stone. Hair writhed around the face which had expanded cheeks and puckered lips as if it was blowing air.

"Zephyr," identified Daniel. "The god of the west wind, bringer of the spring."

"On Tauron, he's Favonius," confirmed Cyrus as the men continued to walk down the corridor.

In the small flashlight's beam of light, the corridor's floor began to level off in the distance and to slant sharply upward. Cyrus suddenly began gasping, dropping his flashlight which rolled down to the bottom of the curving floor. He grasped at his throat and gasping mouth.

Alarmed, Daniel grabbed the back of Cyrus' shirt and pulled him up. This caused him to stumble backward down to the stone floor. He instantly realized what was wrong.

The air!

Daniel couldn't breathe anymore. Holding Cyrus' shirt, he and the Colonial stumbled back up the corridor, gasping and wheezing, until they could breathe once more. Daniel should have known that the test of statuettes was too easy and therefore would have a dangerous obstacle ahead.

He also should have known from his experience with sealed Egyptian tombs. The air wasn't poisoned, but it was poison to the men nonetheless. Carbon dioxide is heavier than oxygen, so over the centuries, it settled in the lowest place possible, namely where the corridor slanted down, then up. Thus, a barrier and a trap were created against would-be intruders.

If the two men had been walking fast or running, they'd be trapped down there and suffocate to death.

The procedure in opening a sealed Ancient Egyptian tomb is that fans must be set up to stir up the air and remove any toxin before archaeologists could enter the tomb. Not an ideal solution considering the risk of disturbing extremely fragile artifacts, but it was the best one besides constantly wearing gas masks.

He could see that Cyrus was thinking along similar lines and was chiding himself.

"Zephyr!" suddenly remembered Daniel. Standing up and steadying himself against a rough stone wall, Daniel ran back up the corridor, feeling the dark ceiling with the tips of his fingers. When the ceiling sharply bent downward, he knew he was at the face of the wind god. He felt at it and found the open puckered mouth and reached inside. His fingers encountered what felt like a lever. Daniel pulled the lever and kept pulling until the lever finally moved. A blast of air blew out of the stone face as he heard the whir of fans activating deep inside.

Daniel went back down the corridor until he met Cyrus again, still sitting on the floor, drinking gulps of air. It felt as if there was a strong wind blowing through the corridor. After a minute, Cyrus stood up and cautiously stepped down toward his fallen mini-flashlight. Daniel followed with equal caution. When they were past the point where Cyrus first began to asphyxiate, they found they were still able to breathe.

The favorable wind of Zephyr was doing its work. The stale air was already stirred enough that the carbon dioxide had dispersed.

The corridor continued to slant upward until Cyrus and Daniel came upon a doorway flanked by two double-axes. Daniel recognized the axes to be labrys, a symbol that was very common in the Minoan civilization. A stone relief of an owl stared down from above the doorway. The stone door rumbled and shed bits of dust and stone powder as it slid down.

They glanced up at the owl as they stepped through the doorway. There must be a motion sensor inside the symbol of Athena.

The chamber beyond was similar to the previous chamber except that it was completely empty. The only other difference is glowing red-orange lines etched into the stone floor. The men looked around, puzzled. They saw that the lines delineated the path of a complex circuitous labyrinth and they were at the entrance into the labyrinth. It had only a single non-branching path which led to the center of the chamber. It reminded Daniel of the labyrinth that people could walk in the Chartres Cathedral in France, or the Trappist Abbey of Our Lady of Saint-Remy in Wallonia, Belgium, or the Grace Cathedral in San Francisco.

He thought it was peculiar that this labyrinth should be here after those labry axes that flanked the doorway into this chamber as if they warned the knowledgeable visitor of its existence. In prehistoric times, labyrinths served as traps for evil spirits or as defined paths for ritual dances. In medieval times, it symbolized a hard path to God with a clearly defined center (God) and one entrance (birth). People who couldn't afford a pilgrimage could walk the path, ascending toward salvation or enlightenment.

Most famous of all is the labyrinth in which the Minotaur was imprisoned.

Cyrus said, "We have labyrinths like this in some of our temples and parks. Sometimes the priests say they represent our search for the Source. The Source being either the Lords of Kobol or Kobol itself. Some people use them to achieve a state of contemplation or meditation. Walk among the turnings, you'd lose track of direction and of the outside world. This is supposed to quiet the mind. Thank the Gods there's no Minotaur here." He looked around at the empty chamber and shrugged. "Looks like we have to walk the labyrinth to find answers."

"Wait." Daniel picked up a pebble from the floor and threw it toward the center of the labyrinth. As it went over the narrow path of the entrance toward where the line bent, the rock struck something invisible in the air. The rock glowed and disintegrated.

The hair on the back of the men's necks rose. An energy force field that could vaporize a person if he touches it. The tests in the Tomb of Athena were getting progressively more dangerous.

The entire floor of the chamber was taken up by the lines of the labyrinth so the men had no choice. Very carefully, they entered it and navigated the circuitous route that curved and bent back and forth. Cyrus and Daniel were hardly breathing. Now and then, a bit of their clothes struck the force field barrier and disintegrated, thus reinforcing the urgency of their care. By the time they reached the wide center, they were sweating.

When they felt they could breathe once more, symbols began to glow near the edge of the circle in the center of the labyrinth. This time, they glowed blue. They were the thirteen signs of the zodiac.

An Ancient inscription also glowed into appearance on the far side of the curving wall. Daniel translated the inscription aloud:

"Let the Source go to the first four signs."

They looked down at the zodiac glowing in the floor. The test was obvious but there was little to go on.

"The first four signs," repeated Daniel. He stepped on the glowing blue silhouette of a ram, the sign of Aries. In the order of the traditional zodiac, he stepped on the bull of Taurus, the twins of Gemini and the crab of Cancer.

The doorway slammed shut behind them. The low-domed ceiling began to lower itself, shedding dust and bits of broken stone and dirt which were quickly vaporized by the force fields along the winding labyrinth path where they didn't fall right in the path. That meant if the men wanted to escape the chamber, they'd have to retrace their steps through the labyrinth to open the door. They knew there wouldn't be time to do it before the ceiling crushed them. Even if they rushed, they'd trip and be vaporized by the energy force field.

"Daniel! It must be the wrong order!"

"No! It's right! It's been that order since the Babylonians! What about in the Colonies?"

"It's the same!"

Daniel expelled a breath of frustration as the ceiling continued to lower itself. If they didn't do something, they'd be squashed. Sure, they could try to huddle in the space that'd be left over between the low domed ceiling and the floor. It'd be uncomfortable and they'd soon run out of air if they didn't die of thirst or starvation first. "Anthem! What was the order in which the Colonies were founded?"

"Juno's cunt! Nobody knows for certain! Frak!" Anthem quickly cast about in his mind. "The best evidence we have…." Immediately, he stepped on the twins of Gemenon, the fish-tailed goat of Caprica, the bull of Tauron and the maiden of Virgon.

The ceiling continued to lower. This time, spikes of iron jutted out of the ceiling. The expected left over space in the center of the labyrinth was now deprived.

"That's wrong, too!" Daniel was now bending over under the lowering ceiling and spikes.

"Wait…." A thought occurred to Anthem. "Kobalos. The Source. Kobol is the Source. It must be in the order that the Kobolians colonized the worlds!"

"If it's wrong, we'd be flat as pancakes! And skewered to boot!"

Anthem set to stepping on the blue glowing zodiacal signs: the man and snake of Ophiuchus which was between Sagittarius and Scorpio, the twins of Gemini of Taurus, the sea-goat of Capricorn, and the bull of Taurus.

The ceiling stopped descending. The rusted iron spikes withdrew into the ceiling. A waist-high pillar rose out of the center of the circle and panels shaped in recognizably Ancient geometry began to glow blue on the pillar. On top of the pillar, a copy of the circled dot glowed. The red-orange lines of the labyrinth faded away. To test it, Daniel kicked several pebbles over to where the circle's border once glowed. Nothing stopped or harmed them. The force field was now gone.

"So…," Daniel said as he huddled over to the pillar, still bent over and rubbing some pain out of his back. "Tauron was settled after Caprica?"

Anthem smirked. "Yeah, that tickles my feelings as a Tauron. If you're asking why Tauron hasn't dominated the Colonies, the first settlers had so little resources and starved to the point of eating dirt. Hence, the derogative term 'dirt-eater'. Caprica was much richer. Of course, Tauron could still have overshadowed some of the other Colonies if not for the fact that the Virgon and Leonis Empires conquered and colonized it."

Daniel was very well aware of the randomness of history concerning the rise and fall of superpowers. If having the greatest age was a requirement for being a superpower, then Egypt or Iraq would have been the superpower of Earth.

"And Earth? Earth is Ophiuchus. Why do you call us the Thirteenth Colony?"

Anthem shrugged. "I don't know. We've been over this before. Let's call it cultural ethnocentrism. You're right. Earth should be called the First Colony."

"And yet we know that we were not a colony. We have evidence that humanity evolved on Earth."

"Kobol is the world of humanity's origins…," began Anthem.

"Let's not get into that again. We'll come to that bridge later." Daniel looked at the glowing pillar. The pillar's purpose obvious, Daniel touched the top of the pillar, the palm of his hand covering the glowing circled dot. The men waited for a while.

Daniel grunted. "Whatever this is, it doesn't do anything. It's a dead end."

"I'm not so sure—" Anthem raised his hand over to the pillar. The blue panels glowed brighter as the pillar sensed his genes. The floor's edge glowed blue and the floor began to quake hard. The quaking continued as if there was an earthquake.

Anthem stumbled. "What's going on?"

Unexpectedly, the floor descended like an elevator. Daniel held onto the pillar for dear life as Anthem went down to all fours. After a while, the floor stopped descending.

Daniel quipped, "If you want to kill us, you're going to have to try harder than that."

Now what? They were in the dark again. But what they could see from the pillar's soft blue radiance, they were in a room in the shape and size of the round elevator floor. An Ancient inscription glowed into appearance on a side of the curving wall.

Daniel read it, muttering silently under his breath. When he was finished reading, his mouth hung open in shock. He slowly shook his head, took off his glasses for a thorough cleaning in his shirt and whispered loudly, "Impossible."

"What? What does it say?"

Daniel put on and adjusted his glasses, looked at the inscription and blinked his eyes. He read it to himself again. Shaking his head again, he said, "I cannot be entirely sure. I'll need to consult my notes on the Ancient language."

Anthem expelled a breath in frustration. "For Sagan's sake, Daniel, just tell me what you think that says!"

The Earther turned bewildered eyes to the Colonial and said, "What is the ultimate answer to the great question of life, the universe and everything?"

Now Anthem was confused. "What? What the frak kind of question is that? How in Hades did the First Civilization expect us to know the answer to that?"

"It's a nonsensical question." Daniel chuckled ruefully. "It seems the Ancients were not without a sense of humor." He looked up into the darkness to where the corridor through which they came would be. "I think I'm seeing a pattern here."

Anthem crossed his arms, clearly waiting for Daniel to provide an explanation. Which he did:

"See, that hologram room required the both of us to activate it. The circumpunct in the tomb's first chamber required me to activate it. The pillar over there required you to activate it. It's as if the Ancients expected us to take turns. Even if you came here and found the tomb first, you wouldn't be able to unlock the circumpunct symbol. Clearly, this test requires cooperation between a person from Earth and a person from the Twelve Colonies."

"That would fit the old saying from the Sacred Scrolls: 'The gods lift those who lift each other.'"

"Yeah. It's amazing, though…" Daniel shook his head in wonder as he turned back to the wall. "This question was not written until only recently back on Earth, and in a famous work of fiction. I honestly don't know how the Ancients could foresee with such exactness."

Anthem stared flabbergasted. "You're saying this question on the wall comes from a recent Earth work of _fiction_?"

Daniel nodded helplessly.

"And you know the answer?"

In response, Daniel spoke in Ancient to the wall. Anthem envied his ease with Proto-Kobolese and was determined to match his skill.

Anthem looked up, waiting for something, anything to happen. He looked down to Daniel. "You sure that's the right answer?"

"Do you think it speaks English?" wondered Daniel aloud.

"Just say it."

"Okay…forty-two."

The inscription faded and vanished. Part of the stone wall then moved up to reveal an entryway. The short corridor was similar to the first corridor, similarly covered in phosphorescently glowing Ancient inscriptions on the walls, ceiling and floor.

"After you…I think," Anthem said.

After walking down the corridor, they came out into a large domed chamber.

"Wow," breathed Anthem.

"I'm actually impressed," put in Daniel.

Indeed, the chamber was very large. Much larger than a tomb had any right to be. At the end of it, two large statues of a woman flanked what was clearly a sarcophagus. The woman was the same as the holographic queenly woman the men had been seeing since the whole thing began. The statues each held a staff as if they guarded the sarcophagus. Behind the sarcophagus, a smaller statue of a muscular man grappling with an entwining serpent stood. Ophiuchus, who was supposed to be the thirteenth sign in the zodiac. It was odd seeing that statue here but it was impressive nonetheless.

Daniel could see that the sarcophagus was similar to the Goa'uld sarcophagi. He wondered if whoever was Athena in the Colonial religion was lying inside it. If she was, he wondered if she would awake if they opened the sarcophagus. He hoped that she didn't turn out as badly as Hathor and Osiris did in his experience, especially if this Athena turned out to be a clone of the Athena he knew.

Anthem was thinking along similar lines except he didn't expect Athena to come alive. He wondered what the ramifications would be if he came back to the Colonies with the actual body of one of the Lords of Kobol.

Daniel stepped forward, but Anthem threw out an arm to stop him.

"Wait. Look."

Daniel looked where Anthem was pointing. The floor in front of them was nonexistent. A chasm yawned at them. A pebble was kicked by his shoe over the edge and vanished into the darkness. There was no sound. He shivered. Had the Colonial not stopped him, he'd fallen in to his death.

He was well and truly embarrassed. If a biography is ever written of him, it'd discuss his grand adventures, his impossible achievements done throughout the galaxy and beyond, and it'd end with "Daniel Jackson did not pay attention and fell into a hole to his death." Such a simple mistake to end all mistakes. As an experienced adventurer-archaeologist, he should have known better.

Now they saw that the chasm stretched from the corridor's end to the platform holding the sarcophagus and the statues. They looked around to see if there's anything to help them this time. Anthem noticed a picture almost lost amid the Ancient inscriptions in the corridor. It showed a woman tipping over the edge of a line and below, several people kneeling and raising hands either in adulation or in warning against the woman's fall. Was the picture showing Athena's death as described in the Sacred Scrolls?

On the opposite wall, Anthem saw that there was an image of a woman with long blonde hair. Another similar-looking woman, this one with wings like that of an angel, stood behind and above her, holding the lower woman's shoulders protectively. He recognized them to be Pythia and Aurora. The only other time he'd ever seen these two women together was on a carved door in the Otori Temple in the Scorpian jungles. They seemed to be looking directly at Athena's fall on the opposite wall.

Below Pythia and Aurora were twelve interweaving serpents. A Sacred Scroll verse came unbidden into his mind: _And unto the leader they gave a vision of serpents numbering two and ten, as a sign of things to come._

Anthem touched the image of serpents. The stone wall that formerly closed off the corridor now slid down, denying them access to the elevator floor. As the dust settled, they saw that the back of the door was polished to a high sheen like a mirror.

And a strange mirror, at that. It vaguely showed the huge chamber, the sarcophagus and the statues surrounding it…and a glowing wide blue line crossing the chasm between the corridor and the sarcophagus platform.

Looking back at the chasm, they didn't see any glowing line.

Daniel then immediately looked to the inscriptions surrounding the image of the falling woman. After some mutterings, he said, "It says that like Athena, we must take a Leap of Faith."

"What about that rock you kicked? It fell right where that line is."

Daniel shrugged.

"Leap of Faith," muttered Anthem quietly. He nodded once, squared his shoulders and raised a foot over the edge. He squeezed his eyes shut and stepped over the edge.

The Tauron-born Colonial stood there, seemingly as if he hovered over the emptiness of the chasm. Gingerly, he tapped a foot and found a solid surface beneath. Was it an optical illusion or a tangible hologram that activated when that door fell shut?

Daniel thought it was the latter as he remembered the holographic guardian and sword that SG-1 found in Merlin's vault under Glastonbury, England.

His confidence bolstered, he strode across the invisible bridge over the chasm. Daniel followed without hesitation. Sometimes there was no arguing with the Ancients. Then a hologram of the displeased-looking proud woman appeared in front of the sarcophagus. While the men were striding over the invisible bridge, she spoke.

"_A hundred years I might speak and still you would not know us. You with five senses. Us with six. The one we kept from you to be safe. Now, you can never know. Only try. Grasp. You can SEE. SMELL. TASTE. TOUCH. HEAR. Knowledge has been locked away. After, when the world became undone, we tried to pass it through the blood. Tried to join you with us. Few of you see the patterns of time, hear the words from the planes of Ascension. But you do not know."_

Anthem said, "That must explain the oracles."

Then the Ancient woman became angry. _"WE SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU AS YOU WERE! It is hard to stay contained, knowing as we do. I would not speak thus but death wishes must be respected. Therefore, we wait for you. You will come. You will know only when it is too late."_

The hologram faded away. Daniel commented, "Death wishes?"

"She must be referring to Athena," said Anthem. "It's likely that all this wouldn't be possible without that woman if she didn't respect Athena."

"She doesn't like us, don't you think? Who is she?"

"Yeah. I can't imagine why." Anthem, though, had his suspicions, if the Sacred Scrolls were anything to go by.

Finally, they arrived at the platform containing the sarcophagus and the two statues. Daniel was amazed to see that the sarcophagus was indeed of Goa'uld design. How did this come to be here when the Goa'uld were not aware of Kobol? It was out of place, out of context. Perhaps the Ancients secretly raided Goa'uld holdings? He knew that at one point, the Asgard somehow convinced the Nox and the Furlings to temporarily restore their alliance in order to make a grand strike against the Goa'uld, especially the Supreme System Lord Ra, at Heliopolis, the former central meeting place of the Alliance of the Four Great Races. That strike forced Ra to flee and the other System Lords to sue for peace with the surviving Great Races. That was also the last time the surviving Great Races cooperated in a military venture. Were the Kobolian Ancients ever involved in that? They may never know now.

Nevertheless, archaeology has a term for things like the sarcophagus: 'Out Of Place Artifact'. Most Ooparts, or 'O-Parts' tended to have eventual explanations or turned out to be hoaxes. Daniel heard O'Neill say it's part of something called 'the Schizo-tech Trope'. He mentally rolled his eyes at the memory.

Anthem gently slid a hand along the edge of the cartouche-shaped sarcophagus. He was filled with anxiety, excitement and uneasiness. Here was a chance to possibly gaze upon the face of Athena herself in the flesh as opposed to in stone. Would it confirm his lapsed faith? Would it disillusion him as to the nature of the Lords of Kobol? According to legend, the gods revealed themselves only in glimpses and in dreams. Seeing their full glory would kill a mere mortal or drive one to madness. Anthem remembered the legend of how jealous Hera, disguised as an old maid, tricked one of Zeus' mistresses, Semele, into begging the king of the gods to reveal himself fully. At first, he refused, but then reluctantly revealed himself in his full divine glory. The sight burned her to a cinder, thus achieving Hera's revenge for her husband's adultery. Semele was pregnant with Dionysus at the time but Zeus saved him by taking the fetus into himself, hence the demi-god's occasional moniker Dionysus the Twice-Born.

Well. If he was going to die or go mad, might as well do it. All this has happened before and all this will happen again. "So say we all," Anthem whispered to himself. He looked up and nodded to Daniel who then slid a hand over a red carnelian jewel inlaid in the head of the sarcophagus.

Immediately, the sarcophagus rumbled. The top split in the middle. The two parts slid away from each other and swung as if they were bird's wings. Anthem jumped back. Soft white light shone from within.

A beautiful copper-tinted gold dagger lay in the middle of the sarcophagus.

Other than that, the sarcophagus was completely empty. Anthem wasn't sure if he should be disappointed. A closer look revealed etched lines and tiny jewels in the hilt and some dried blood on the golden blade itself. Anthem looked up at Daniel who only adjusted his glasses at the sight. They recognized the material of the blade and hilt to be the legendary orichalcum, a gold that glinted red like the fire. In Earth legends, it was the metal of Atlantis while in the Colonies; it was the metal of Poseidos and Kobol.

"Now, let's see if there's a way out of here," Daniel said, looking around at the chamber. He went to take a closer look at the statue of Ophiuchus. "I need to tell Stargate Command about this…."

Anthem, meanwhile, reached into the sarcophagus and touched the dagger's hilt, intending to grasp it. The etched lines glowed blue.

Suddenly everything froze.

"What's happening?" yelled Anthem in surprise. "I can't move!"

The voice of the angry woman came from nowhere. There was no hologram this time. _"Your DNA communes with our technology. You have activated it."_

Anthem struggled to move. "Let me go!"

Daniel was similarly frozen in place, but he was unable to speak. Only his eyes shifted, full of surprise and worry.

"_You were birthed from our loins and the loins of our enemies. The end and the beginning, who we abhor and honor. The final journey commences."_

The tiny inlaid jewels glittered brightly on the orichalcum dagger. Anthem felt himself turning away from the sarcophagus, grasping the dagger in his hand. He continued to try and resist. "What are you doing?"

"_The path must be opened. You cannot escape your part in this. The scales shall be balanced."_

"Stop. Please." The Colonial still struggled to free himself.

"_You know very little. We must guide you. Cease your struggle."_

Still struggling, Anthem saw that he was moving toward Daniel. His grasp of the dagger shifted with clear intent. He realized with horror that he was about to kill his new-found friend. He came around the sarcophagus to stand in front of Daniel beneath the statue of Ophiuchus. Anthem struggled to free himself, to stop himself. His eyes stared into Daniel's wide eyes which were now filled with panic and clear effort to break free.

Then he stabbed Daniel in the stomach.

The stasis-like hold on everything instantly released. All could now move. But as Anthem quickly released his hold on the dagger, blood bloomed on Daniel's abdomen and he doubled over in pain. Daniel reached out a stained hand to steady himself against the pedestal of Ophiuchus' statue, smearing it with his blood. Anthem could only watch with horror.

The angry woman's voice now sounded satisfied. _"It is done. The scales are now balanced. The way lies all before you."_

A small door opened behind the statue of Ophiuchus, revealing a closet-like space. It was another transporter.

Anthem noticed it but didn't pay attention to it as he rushed to Daniel's side. His lifeblood was still spilling out of the dagger wound onto the floor. The Earther was gasping in pain and shock. He tried to speak. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Anthem. The sarcophagus. Put me in it."

Anthem was scandalized. Put him in Athena's sarcophagus?

"Do it…. Now." With that, Daniel's eyes rolled and his gasps then drew out into the tell-tale sound of a death rattle as he slumped down to the base of Ophiuchus' statue. He was dead.

Anthem realized what the angry woman meant by balancing the scales. All the tribes' leaders were sacrificed to the gods to purchase the freedom to leave Kobol. Their skeletons in the tomb's first chamber at the base of the twelve zodiacal statues attested to that fact. All except for the Thirteenth Tribe. He glanced up at the statue of Ophiuchus who was the zodiacal symbol of Earth. The gods felt the Thirteenth Tribe owed them a sacrifice for leaving Kobol. He remembered another verse from the Sacred Scrolls: _And Zeus warned the leaders of the twelve tribes that any return to Kobol would exact a price in blood._

But…but Daniel wasn't of the Twelve Tribes! It wasn't fair! For the moment, he didn't know what to do. Then he remembered the angry woman saying that death wishes must be respected. So be it. He pulled the orichalcum sacrificial dagger out of Daniel's body. He lifted the limp and bloodied body, and heaved it into the sarcophagus, leaving a trail of blood from Ophiuchus to the gilded box covered with hieroglyphics. He jumped back when the sarcophagus' winged lids slowly swung themselves shut, sealing Daniel within.

Bereft of all feelings, Anthem forced himself to go to the open door behind Ophiuchus. Panting from the shock of the events that had just transpired, he weakly pressed a bloodied finger on the single glowing dot in the dark panel on the back of the transporter. The door slid shut and a bright light flashed.

When the transporter door opened again, Anthem fell through it and found himself back in the hologram room at Olympus. Full circle. Behind him, the transporter door slid shut. It was as if it never existed in the first place.

He dragged himself upright and walked with heavy feet to the entrance. The door did not slide open. It still refused to do so when he waved a hand over the door's control panel and when he pressed the panel buttons.

Sighing in exasperation and frustration, Anthem sat down on the platform that held the console. A small part of his mind noticed that the console's blue panels lit up. Nothing further occurred. That reminded him of Daniel. Anthem threw his face into his palms. How could he explain this to the Thirteenth Tribe? How could he get out of this room?

He wanted to rage at the Lords of Kobol. But he was too tired, too exhausted from the recent events.

He wanted to talk with Felix Gaeta.

Problem was he was stuck in this room.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Single is the race, single,

Of men and gods;

From a single mother we both draw breath.

But a difference of power in everything

Keeps us apart.

(Pindar, Nemean Odes, VI, 1, about 450 BC)

**Somewhere**

"Are we decided, then? We're hearing unanimous reports from the other groups, but anything less than total agreement is unacceptable in this case."

Six people sat around a long narrow table of frosted glass. Or at least what appeared to be people. They were in fact Cylons. Clear glass goblets and a glass pitcher full of water complemented the meal laid out on the table. The meal consisted of various types of meat grown in the same vats that grew the bodies for the Cylon replicant models—in fact, it was the same type of flesh as in the models' bodies. Total recycling and total self-sufficiency were the order of the day for the baseships on this mission.

Watching over the whole room were two Centurions standing guard, their red optical light weaving back and forth in the helmet visor.

A copy of the Number Four model, sometimes named Simon O'Neill, leaned forward, elbows on the table, and said, "Six is right. If we do this, this will mean accelerating the time table. This isn't exactly a minor decision."

The Number Six copy known as Natalie Faust nodded her appreciation of Four's support and sipped water from her clear glass goblet.

The copy of the Number One model known as John Cavil scoffed softly. "It isn't…now. In a few years' time, we will all look back at this as the first step towards liberty and justice for all."

Natalie let that sink in. She had been feeling disquiet ever since the existence of the Thirteenth Colony was revealed. Why was a myth brought from obscurity into reality right now, of all times? Perhaps war was not a good idea…. She pushed the thought out, dismissing it as a too-human foible of fearing the unknown.

In the chamber occupying the very center of the baseship, the Hybrid lay in its tub of amniotic fluid and looked up into a bright light as little droplets of water dripped from above onto her face. She had been speaking nonstop:

"_A million paths converge and forge a narrow trail towards a possible future. A unified mind finds focus amid the chaos, unaware of the threat of expansion within and without, of the threat of heaven's gate. End of line. Compressors online. Error in FTL port matrix assessed and repaired. Centurion deployment grid updated. Standby status fifty percent. End of line. Destiny hinges on variables. Reducing variables increases odds. Cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs. Let sleeping dogs lie all along the watchtower. Necessary risk equation is analyzed and found acceptable. Node thirteen repair engaged. End of line. Reset…."_

The Number Two copy of Leoben said, "What about this new tribe they found?"

Cavil waved a hand in dismissal as he swallowed the morsel of meat he'd bitten into. "They're human. They'll either wake up with the bright light of God's epiphany on their faces or…" he shrugged. "…they'll perish with the rest. I don't see that it matters either way. They're human, like our former masters."

The footsteps of heeled boots sounded from outside the room, and a Number Three copy of D'Anna Biers, dressed in an all-white suit and skirt, came through the doorway. Completely ignoring the vigilant weaving look of the Centurions, she said forcefully, "Why are we still debating this?"

A Number Five rose to the bait. "The decision to resume the war against the humans is not to be taken lightly." The Doral copy glanced down at his plate of meat and looked back up to Cavil. "However, my model line agrees with the decision."

Natalie spoke up. "Before we wage war, we must have intelligence. We know nothing about the Thirteenth Tribe. It is said that the Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol two thousand years before the other tribes left for the Colonies. Therefore, there is the possibility that the Thirteenth Colony is more advanced."

"Earth is only one Colony," pointed out Number Eight.

"Just like we are just one world?" shot back Natalie.

Eight said nothing and leaned back. Three studied Six with a calculating eye.

"We need intelligence," repeated Natalie with emphasis. "We need our agents to send us information. They also have orders to obtain samples."

D'Anna crossed her arms across her chest but nodded in agreement.

Cavil looked around at the other models at the table. "Is there anything else that needs to be discussed? No? Then when our agents complete their tasks, we attack. Do we have unanimous consensus on the decision?"

As one, the Cylon models nodded.

The two Centurions stood motionless, their single red eye swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Back and forth. Back and forth.

**The White House**

**Washington, DC**

"You'd think I'd be used to this by now, but every time I walk down this hallway it still feels like I'm being summoned to the principal's office. I feel like I need some sort of thought-out, prearranged excuse. You know, 'the computer crashed' or something along those lines."

"I can empathize; my family lived in a large, old-fashioned brownstone when I was young, and my father had one of those dignified, wood-paneled offices with shades and lamps, the works. You knew as a child that if you were called in there, there was trouble. I dreaded it every time."

Jack O'Neill chuckled and let out a slow breath as he walked along, brushing non-existent lint off his uniform. His walking companion was always sharing little anecdotes like that with people; it was a masterful way of putting people at ease and seemed to work like a charm. He'd seen him use it on more than a few young enlisted troops to put them at ease during many a tour. It took the person's mind off an immediate stressor and got them in a relaxed and conversational mode. Jack wished he had that talent, knowing he got by more with homely quips that most shrugged off or rolled their eyes at, unless of course they worked for him.

In reality, Jack had to do the same thing now as his walking companion was also his boss, the Secretary of Defense, Doctor Gerald Kiel. Like any good military officer who got to work at the highest levels of the Department of Defense, Jack knew that having the ear and the attention of the Secretary, or SECDEF, meant you mattered. While normally he didn't give a damn about being liked, Jack did care about protecting the SGC's turf, its people and the mission, and that meant staying on the good side of the SECDEF. Luckily for Jack and many others, that wasn't the most difficult challenge with the good-natured Kiel.

"Normally, the worst thing the principal can do is call your parents; in this case Jack, the principal can do worse, he's got the IRS."

Any insider who heard their humorous conversation would have been surprised at how light-hearted the individuals in question were, or at least given them credit for being able to compartmentalize their concerns. It had been a rather stressful week inside the Department of Defense, starting with a renewed offensive by Marines in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. An F/A-18F Super Hornet had crashed on lift-off from Naval Air Station Miramar in California; the pilot had ejected safely but two civilians had been killed by debris on the ground. The commander of an air defense artillery battalion at Fort Sill, Oklahoma had committed suicide. Adding all this to the debacle that was PXG-147 had made for a long week for the SECDEF.

Both men and their party arrived at the entrance to the White House Situation Room and proceeded to get cleared to enter. The Situation Room was actually more than a single room, but a 5,000 square foot complex of conference rooms, watch centers and offices that were the domain of the National Security Council, the body responsible for advising the President on all matters related to the security of the United States. Since ascending to his current and wholly unexpected position, Jack had come to spend a lot of time in the Situation Room, not all of it pleasantly.

"Is it just me, or do they keep the temperature setting intentionally low in here? I'd swear they're trying to keep people a little uncomfortable."

Kiel chuckled. "That's it Jack, you've found them out. CIA will have you taken away lest you give away national secrets."

Jack's eyebrows arched even as he grinned widely. "Yes sir, because being one of the few aware of alien life hasn't put me in that position already, and let's not forget that I'm not exactly on their Christmas card list as it is."

Kiel shrugged. "The price of fame Jack."

Jack practically snorted his response. "Yes sir, a real life _American Idol_, except I don't sing and dance."

"You will if the boss tells you to."

Kiel and O'Neill entered the main briefing room that would be used for the meeting and saw that most of the main participants were just arriving as well, some stopping to converse about small matters or political intrigue. The occupants of the room represented the highest echelons of the United States Government, at least from the national security viewpoint. The first person they encountered was General Francis Maynard, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who had returned early from a visit to the Pacific region to be part of the briefing.

"Mr. Secretary, General O'Neill."

Kiel broke out in a grin at the sight of the Chairman. "Francis, I hope we didn't break up any good time you and the South Koreans were having; I know how much you love spending quality time in Seoul. Where's my kimchi?"

Maynard, whose first assignment as a young tanker had been to the Eighth Army in South Korea, merely shook his head and gave off the wisp of a smirk, barely detectable to those who didn't know him well. "Nothing unusual; it was the same concerns as always. Those maniacs in the PRK and their Chinese enablers." Maynard looked over at O'Neill. "Jack, I saw your initial summaries on this; Colonel Dixon seemed to do one heck of a job under incredible conditions. I don't know whether to be scared or awed if that information proves accurate."

O'Neill shrugged. "I'm past getting awed sir, though I do have moments of indigestion. At this point I'm trying to stay neutral until we can get some sort of independent assessment."

"Understated as always Jack." Maynard shook his head and turned to the SECDEF. "What are your initial thoughts sir?"

Before Kiel could respond a staffer informed the room that President Hayes was on his way. Jack looked over his shoulder as Colonel Davis approached.

"Everything set to go Paul?"

"Yes sir. The NSC staff have your slides ready and we have Ambassador Mulhern and General Landry standing by on video."

"Good."

The principal members of the National Security Council took their seats around the conference table and took stock of the briefing documents set before them. Soon enough a video screen came to life and the image of General Landry and Ambassador Mulhern came into view from the SGC's command center at Cheyenne Mountain. Jack took a moment to find his seat in the row of chairs along the wall behind Secretary Kiel and General Maynard and set out to relax his mind with a series of cleansing breaths. It was a practice Daniel had introduced him to years before as a way of calming himself. As many times as he'd briefed senior leaders, including the President, he still felt a small tsunami of nervousness take hold just before starting and he quietly thanked his old friend for knowing him well enough to know he'd need the tip.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the President."

The occupants of the room rose as one as President Henry Hayes made his way to his chair at the head of the conference table. Though so much had been written about the stress and fatigue of being the President of the United States, observers had also commented on how well Hayes handled it. A vigorous and good-natured man, Hayes devoutly held to two constants in his routine: daily morning workouts in the White House's gym and Sunday services at an Episcopal church in the District. How much each had to do with his relative health was open to conjecture. Like any modern head of state, he was dressed conservatively in a grey charcoal suit and blue silk tie; it was as much a uniform as anything O'Neill or Maynard wore.

"Good morning everyone." With that the former Governor of Ohio took his seat and looked over to the National Security Advisor, Doctor Judith Regan, who chaired all meetings of the NSC. Regan cleared her throat and began.

"Good morning Mister President. The purpose of this meeting is a briefing on events that have taken place involving an off-world SGC mission. You will be briefed by General O'Neill and we also have Ambassador Mulhern and General Landry on video from Cheyenne Mountain. General?"

O'Neill rose from his seat and walked to the podium at the far end of the room and turned to face the President.

"Good morning Mister President, ladies and gentlemen. This briefing is in regards to the SGC scientific mission to the planet designated PXG-147." Almost automatically, a star map was brought up on one of the flat panel screens showing its position relative to Earth as other screens showed photos of the stargate and some of the ruins. The star map showed that PXG-147 was about 2,000 light-years from Earth, just over a thousand and five hundred light-years past Polaris. "As background, the mission to this planet began after…" For a few minutes Jack delved into the deployment of the SGC scientists, teams and the RED HORSE detachment. After having spent the last few years delivering high-level briefings, he had become adept at clearly and concisely delivering a story.

"Approximately 72 hours ago, our base camp was quickly and aggressively surrounded by a then unknown military force who arrived via air assault. From later reports from Colonel Dixon, this was a full spectrum assault using a force structure similar to what we would deploy in a typical Marine Expeditionary Unit to include infantry, armor, indirect fire weapons and air support.

"All communications systems at the base camp were blocked through aggressive use of electronic jamming and an open broadcast was made demanding the surrender of our base and its inhabitants, threatening an attack if a timely surrender did not happen."

Hayes spoke for the first time. "They spoke English General?"

"Yes sir. There were obvious cultural differences but they spoke a relatively normal base. Ambassador Mulhern and General Landry have met them and can speak more to that issue."

"We'll come back to it. Continue General."

"Yes sir. While this was happening, SGC personnel were still in control of the planet's stargate a short distance away and contacted the SGC to report the situation…" Jack continued the briefing, detailing the SGC's response, events Hayes was aware of as he'd authorized the insertion of the Ranger battalion to secure the planet's gate. The other occupants of the room continued to listen with looks ranging from anger (coming when Jack detailed the treatment of the Airmen and scientist by the Colonial Marines) to shock to neutral expressions displayed on their faces. Finally, almost 30 minutes into the briefing, an exasperated Henry Hayes looked at O'Neill and at the video screen images of Mulhern and Landry and shook his head.

"Okay, let's recap this so we have the entire picture before us. We've made contact, almost at the point of hostilities, with an interstellar human civilization claiming to encompass 12 planets and possibly 50 _billion_ inhabitants, technologically advanced enough to travel long distances and land military forces. Additionally, this civilization believes, religiously, that we are some sort of long lost cousin and that this planet," Hayes looked at his briefing documents. "Kobol in their lexicon, is the origin point of humanity. Am I correct?"

Ambassador Mulhern answered for the SGC contingent. "That's correct Mister President."

"And they believed that our people on the planet were either illegal separatists or grave-robbers? And once they discovered otherwise they pulled back their siege and offered to negotiate?"

"Yes sir, on both counts."

"What type of government are we looking at here? Is it anything of a form we'd recognize? Dictatorial?"

"No Mister President, it doesn't appear to be a dictatorship, at least according to them. Obviously, anything they currently tell us we have no means of independently corroborating. According to the informational packet they provided, their Head of State is an elected President. They have a bicameral legislative branch of government that includes bodies called the 'Quorum of Twelve' and 'People's Council', how much power they have is unclear. Apparently, they also have a much closer relationship between Church and State than we have, at least here in the US. Clerics are sometimes allowed political office, and a religious body called, interchangeably, the 'Synod' or the 'Conclave' advises the secular government in a way similar to the religious aspect of the British House of Lords."

Hayes exhaled loudly and stretched his back in his chair. "Before we discuss the implications of something like this, I have a question. Doctor Van Otten, is what we're being told by these 'Colonials' even possible?"

All eyes turned to Doctor Nicholas Van Otten, the President's Scientific Advisor. A trained biologist, winner of a MacArthur Genius Grant and member of the faculty at Harvard University, Van Otten walked the tenuous political tightrope between science and public policy and did it with a remarkable level of success for the ego-driven world of Washington. The antithesis of Gaius Baltar, he was brilliant in a modest way that was appreciated by both the political class and the scientists of the SGC. He was also a deeply troubled man at the moment, practically having to beg money from a Congress in the grips of fiscal austerity while watching others make some incredible discoveries.

Van Otten leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Mister President, like many issues related to discoveries coming from the SGC, the answer is muddled." A noticeable rolling of the eyes from the Secretary of State didn't miss his detection. "Without knowing what scientific or cultural evidence these 'Colonials' are basing their beliefs or theories on, we cannot make an accurate judgment. We're quite literally dealing with an 'alien' civilization in the most extreme sense. What I can say without doubt is that we have unimpeachable evidence, via fossilized remains, that humanity evolved on this world. Now what happened after that is open to further investigation."

The Secretary of the Treasury, Nathan Wilkinson, looked over with a curious gaze. "What do you mean by 'after' Doctor'?"

"What I mean is that we all know by now that there was at various points alien influence on this world in ancient times, the Goa'uld being the prime example. Add in the Asgard as well as the Ancients, about whom expeditions such as PXG-147 are designed to help expose and you can infer that the possibilities for some sort of cross-pollination are there, if not blatantly obvious. The reports from the SGC personnel on the ground and from Ambassador Mulhern and General Landry are consistent with this. These people claim to worship a pantheon of gods remarkably similar to the Greco-Roman one; the chances of that happening without some sort of outside influence are so astronomical as to be impossible."

Hayes looked about the room. "The question then is where does this leave us, especially in regards to our Disclosure planning?"

Van Otten nodded. "Where I believe it leads us sir, is that when we do go public, we do our best to stress the need for more investigation and we'll need the help not only of other governments but, as has been talked about previously, also the major faiths and churches to emphasize that these questions shouldn't be seen as an attack on people's religious beliefs. That scenario is my greatest fear; a backlash against the scientific community and this government simply for asking some probing questions."

"I agree Doctor. Now, in the more immediate sense, how do we respond to this unexpected introduction? What is our position in regards to these 'Colonials'?" Hayes gazed about the room at his advisors.

"On that score Mister President, I have spoken with other foreign ministers from some of the IOA nations," Secretary of State James Tallmadge looked around the table. "And they're consistent in their view that we should be proceeding carefully but they fully support opening some sort of dialogue with them, as long as they get a seat at the table."

"Of course."

"Also, we have numerous requests for direct conversations regarding this issue from some governments. The British want you to talk with the Prime Minister as soon as possible. The Foreign Minister bent my ear for 15 minutes over this."

"That's fine."

"This just exacerbates the ongoing issue that is the IOA, in that this discovery of a massive human civilization, possibly a highly advanced one, will only lead the other powers to demand more access and more of a say over the program. We've all seen it, whether it's in our military-to-military exchanges…" Tallmadge nodded towards the SECDEF "or in our dealings on Earth-based issues." Tallmadge looked directly at the President with a hard glint in his eyes. "The Chinese demand for access was a harbinger of things to come and this only makes it harder.

"That said, there was a strain of what I would say is real concern, if not fear over what we could be looking at."

Jack knew exactly what Tallmadge was referring to, even if others in the room didn't. The numbers, if true, were staggering.

"How so?"

"Simply put sir, if the information these people are giving us is even partly true, then we're looking at the introduction of a massive hyper-power into this universe."

Hayes looked over at Jack. "General, you know this arena as well as anyone in this government, if not better. What are your thoughts?"

"Sir, on this score I'm in agreement with Secretary Tallmadge. Up until this moment, in terms of human civilizations we have been among the largest, if not the biggest, coupled with the fact that we had developed credibility for our takedown of the System Lords. This guaranteed us a certain respect among other powers, even the Free Jaffa. Now we face the arrival of a massive civilization, almost eight times our population with eleven more planets for resources, a civilization that will be eager to learn and to expand, something I say only because that's been shown to be normal human nature.

"There's also the fact that these Colonials believed they were alone in the universe and knew nothing of the stargate network or the Goa'uld, let alone the Asgard or others."

"Sweet Jesus."

Treasury Secretary Wilkinson nodded vigorously. "Another problem here sir, possibly even bigger, is a financial one."

"Financial?"

" Yes. This may be getting ahead of ourselves but it needs to be a consideration. We're just beginning to understand the universe at large and its relationships, whether they be political or commercial. All the IOA finance ministers are just starting to explore how we'll develop markets and integrate into a larger interstellar economy, one where goods and commodities are bought, sold or traded. Up until now, we've been confident that other that the Free Jaffa or the Hebridians we'd be the largest player. Now if what we're being told here is accurate, we're looking at the equivalent, please pardon the pun, of an economic Godzilla, if, and I stress if, they operate on anything we'd recognize as a market economy.

"Fifty billion people and twelve planets? I shudder to think what they could do if they're at or near a standard of living we'd recognize. If they're ahead? God help us all."

The room went momentarily silent as its occupants contemplated the Treasury Secretary's concerns.

General Landry spoke up. "If I may interject here sir, it also affects our tense relations with the Jaffa."

"In what ways?"

"We already face difficulties with Jaffa suspicions of human governments. Certain elements within the Free Jaffa view our growing agreements with other human governments like the Langarans as a thinly-veiled attempt to contain them and stop any expansionist policies; a member of the Jaffa delegation you met with stated this openly to some of our personnel during their visit to Fort Bragg. Once word gets out that a new human civilization of massive proportions has been discovered, and by us at that, we could be looking at a further deterioration of relations."

Hayes looked up to the ceiling in a rare show of exasperation, or rather frustration. "It was apparent when I met them at Camp David that some were 'reserved', if that's the best term."

"It's more than reservations sir, it's clear mistrust if not hatred by a certain wing within their government. And these new players only make it worse."

"There may be an opportunity here." All heads in the room turned to the CIA Director, who'd been remarkably quiet until this point. "Let's be honest with ourselves. The Jaffa weren't so much the horse we bet on, but more the horse we got stuck with." He held up a hand quickly to derail any DoD rebuttal, namely O'Neill. "We had to deal with the threat that the System Lords represented, and the only way the previous administration could do that was to foment that revolution."

Doctor Regan nodded. "That may be true, but that's the situation we now have. What are you suggesting?"

"That these 'Colonials' may be the best gift to land in our laps in quite a while, and we should explore that. We've been looking for a buffer against the Jaffa 'feeling their oats' as it were; well, here may be our buffer. Nothing calms down an ambitious nation like a bigger kid on the block and if what these 'Colonials' claim is true, then a new big kid just moved into the neighborhood."

This line of thought worried Jack. "That may be sir, but I would point out that we've worked overtime to cultivate the progressive elements among the Jaffa. Both Teal'c and Bratac have been steadfast allies and have pushed that policy within their government."

"I'm not suggesting we start treating the Jaffa like the Soviets, circa 1983 General, and I understand you and the SGC feel a keen sense of investment in them, but they're not turning out to be the reliable partners we hoped for. Otherwise, why are we investing so many resources on Langara and Orban and some other human worlds?"

Jack flushed internally at the Director's quiet power play. By pointing out the SGC's backing of the Jaffa, he was trying to pin any blame for their fall from America's good graces on the SGC and the DoD, and by extension, on O'Neill, degrading his influence. The part that bothered Jack the most was that as much as he wanted to rail against it, and defend the Jaffa, he couldn't. Their turn back to a defensive and distrusting posture had stung, and put the SGC in a tough position. Sadly, nothing the CIA Director was saying was wrong; it was too right. He could see that on the faces of the players in the room.

"All I'm suggesting is that there is an opportunity here, one that should be explored and is of a long-term nature."

President Hayes rested his elbows on his chair and tented his fingers in front as he considered the CIA Director's words. They did have a certain amount of sense to them, even as he actually liked the Jaffa and wanted the relationship on better footing.

"I agree that there may be an opportunity going forward, but I'm not going to see us give up on the Jaffa just yet. They may be rather distrustful and somewhat ambitious, but we do have some shared interests that need more attention. Alright, we're getting off-topic somewhat. The real question is what we do in regards to these Colonials. Judith?"

The National Security Advisor turned to the video screen. "Ambassador, General, you've met with them, are these people we can do business with? Are they open to peaceful dialogue?"

Muhern spoke quickly. "Yes. Certainly. It's apparent that the leader of this expedition, Commander Adama, was not given full instructions or full diplomatic authority for this type of scenario but he's struck both of us as reasonable and level-headed. I'd recommend we proceed with further negotiation at the State level."

Regan turned to the President. "In that case sir, then I support their recommendation."

Hayes nodded. "Gerald, thoughts?"

The SECDEF nodded. "Sir, I'm in agreement with that recommendation. I also believe that we should commence a coordinated intelligence-gathering operation to learn as much as possible about these people. General O'Neill already has some of his staff on the ground but I believe a coordinated effort between DoD and CIA is warranted."

Jack smirked internally. His boss was throwing a bone to the CIA, making it appear the military was in charge, in an effort to forestall a CIA push to take over the mission. Another reason Jack loved his boss.

"I'll approve that; Henry, do you agree?"

CIA nodded. "Yes sir, CIA agrees and we can have a team ready today."

Hayes shifted his gaze steadily between the SECDEF and the CIA Director. "I want it carefully handled. I do not want to piss these people off." Hayes looked back at Jack. "General, are you happy with the force posture on that planet?"

"Sir, we currently have the two SG teams who were about to rotate off-world as well as an Air Force security element with one company of Rangers from Seventh Battalion. I would recommend keeping them there for now, until we have a clearer picture of these people and how negotiations go."

"Approved."

"There is another matter sir."

"What's that Kathryn?"

"The leader of the Colonial expedition, Commander Adama, has invited us to send a delegation to his flagship, called the _Galactica_. Obviously this is an important and worthy gesture as well as an opportunity."

General Maynard nearly grunted. "That's a huge risk." A few others nodded as well.

"Maybe so General, but I believe it's worth it."

Hayes looked over at O'Neill. "What do you think Jack? And before you ask, no, you can't go."

The room collectively let out a small chuckle while looking at Jack, who failed miserably to hide his disappointment. "As was just talked about, we need intelligence on these Colonials. Sending our Amabassador and the head of the SGC is a gamble but we're limited in options. Plus, getting a look at their ships and capabilities up close is too good of an opportunity to pass up. I recommend a go, with at least SG-1 accompanying them."

The President looked back at the video screen. "Alright, Kathryn, General. You have a go."

"Yes sir."

Hayes looked out over the room. "Ladies and Gentlemen, for once when it comes to the SGC and the ever expanding universe, I'm going to try and look at the bright side. Fifty billion people? Think of what these people have probably accomplished; what they may be capable of. I sense a prospect for something good. Let's play this carefully and see what comes of it…"

**Olympus**

**Kobol**

Silence reigned in the hologram room.

Anthem still sat on the platform, drained of feelings and energy from what he had experienced in the Tomb of Athena. He knew that outside the sealed doors, Colonials and Earthers worked to figure out the secrets of Olympus, most of which were in the city-ship's central spire. Beyond the city was the world of Kobol which held the fascination and imagination of countless people in the millennia since the Exodus and Colonization of the Twelve Worlds.

And he couldn't explore all that because he was still stuck in this room. He could escape through the transporter outside the Tomb of Athena then walk down to either Olympus or the City of the Gods. The problem was that he needed Daniel or a member of the 13th Tribe to activate the hologram room's mechanism alongside himself. The transporter was now shut tight.

He had realized something about the tests in the tomb. They gave Anthem and Daniel opportunities to back out. It was only when he touched the image of 12 serpents in the last chamber that they were forced to move forward. So, in a way, it was his fault that Daniel died. And once the Thirteenth Tribe found out, it would be his fault that any chances of an amiable inter-tribal relationship with Earth would be ruined.

The click of a door opening sounded. In the silence of the chamber, it was loud enough to startle Anthem. He looked up, expecting that someone had managed to unlock the door into the hologram room.

Daniel Jackson was striding across the room from the now-closing transporter alcove.

The blood instantly drained from Anthem's face as his mouth dropped open and his eyes bulged. He'd heard stories of ghosts wandering the land due to unfinished business, to seeking vengeance or to the body being unburied or improperly buried, stories of shades of the dead coming to visit from the underworld to give messages or warnings.

Which was he?

"Hello," said Daniel with a smile as if there was nothing amiss.

Anthem's guts wrenched as if he'd been kicked.

The Earther paused in his steps. He could see the shock and fright dominating his Colonial counterpart. At any other time, this could be amusing but this was not one of these times. He reached out and touched one of Anthem's shoulders.

Anthem shot up to his feet, as if electrified by the touch. "You're alive! How—?"

He began to step backward, stumbling as the back of his legs hit the console platform. He fell back onto the platform. In the stories, only a few people had ever come back from the dead and they were demigods. Daniel couldn't be anything like Dionysus or Mithras!

But Daniel was certainly dead. Anthem had made sure of that fact when he checked for a pulse.

Daniel shrugged as if being raised from the dead was not a big deal. "The sarcophagus. Its technology could repair any and all damages to the human body, even to the point of resurrection." The Earth archaeologist smiled wistfully. "Someone once told me that the human body is so easy for the technology to repair and it's why the humans were chosen." Daniel glanced down as he held out the front of his shirt. He regretfully said, "Any damage to inanimate objects is permanent, though."

In the shirt, there was a rip from when Anthem stabbed Daniel with the ancient orichalcum sacrificial dagger. Anthem's eyes were still bulging. The technology would turn everything the Colonies knew on its ear. It had implications for the human soul. If a person died, it's assumed that the soul has departed the body. But what about when the body has been resurrected? Is the soul still departed or has it returned to the body somehow? If it has returned, did the soul know to return or did the machine pull it back in?

Anthem shook his head. Those were questions better left for later and for priests.

Daniel went to the door leading out of the chamber to the rest of Olympus. He tried the door panel and turned back around looking puzzled. "We're still locked in."

Anthem was still trying to wrap his head around Daniel's resurrection so he just stared at his counterpart.

The Earth man sighed, shrugged at the reaction and stepped up to the chamber's podium. Nothing happened. _Of course_, he thought. He looked down at Anthem and held out his right hand.

Anthem still had many questions and thoughts to ponder, but he pushed them aside for later. Tentatively, he reached and touched Daniel's hand, grasping it. He stepped up beside Daniel and the chamber darkened slightly. Motes of light coalesced into a hologram of a woman. This time, it was a different woman. White shining robes billowed in invisible breezes and she wore a stylized hat that seemed to be made of metal. The Ancient version of the helmet?

"Greetings."

Silence reigned once more. The holographic woman appeared to be waiting for the two men to say something. Anything.

Daniel said, "Who are you?"

The helmeted lady nodded in Daniel's direction. "I have many names. When I died, it was Minerva. Before that, Merva, Mera, Atana and on and on. The one you encountered before me is Juno, who was before called Uni. Our leader was Jupiter, who was before called Tinia."

Anthem mentally reeled. This was turning out to be a day of revelations and shocks. "You…are one of the gods, the Lords of Kobol."

Athena, for that was who she was, softly scoffed with apparent good humor. Daniel wondered whether she was an interactive hologram. The Ancients frequently combined their impressive artificial intelligence software with holograms to create lifelike interactive holograms.

"No. We are not gods. We simply…came before you. Even when we walked this world, your kind struggled to understand our existence. We were more…" Athena hesitated as she appeared to search for the right explanation. "…advanced in time, more…evolved." She looked at each man. "You still struggle to understand us. No matter. You will comprehend this: As you now are, we once were; as we now are, you may yet become."

Daniel thought he understood what she was saying, but he was not completely certain. Anthem was trying to take it all in, concentrating to memorize what Athena was saying. What the priests back home wouldn't give to be in his position!

The room darkened further and another hologram coalesced above Athena's head, becoming clouds of stars swirling in the familiar pinwheel of the Milky Way galaxy. As Athena spoke, the stars turned golden in expanding spheres, clearly indicating the Ancients' territorial expansion.

"Millennia before your kind rose, our civilization had reached its heights, its golden age. It was an age undreamed of even by the Ori. But then we began the construction of a new capital city. Vis Uban was to be the crown jewel of our domain. During its construction, we woke a plague. It came out of Vis Uban and ravaged the galaxy."

One by one, the golden stars turned dark, until the process accelerated by multiplication. Here and there, several golden stars still shone in isolation. Eventually, even these faded into darkness. Daniel wondered if one of them was Terra Atlantus, now Earth. The city-ship Atlantis had fled Earth when the plague came, leaving an Ancient woman, Ayiana, as the keeper of the Antarctica outpost.

The holographic view of the galaxy expanded, focusing on a lone golden star until a star system filled the room. Anthem and Daniel recognized it to be the Phos Star System. Kobol hovered in its slow orbit around the golden sun. A ringed gas giant slowly moved behind Daniel. Athena continued to speak.

"We quarantined this world, isolated it from the galaxy and shut the gate before the plague could reach us. We forbade ships to enter this star system despite their pleas."

The hologram of the Phos System moved to focus on images of Ancient spacecraft coming out of hyperspace windows in the distance. They approached against the backdrop of space. Despairing voices cried out, beseeching. Glowing drones of the same type Daniel had seen coming from the Antarctica outpost streamed up from the surface of distant Kobol. He winced as the drones immolated and shattered the ships, silencing the wailing voices forever. Several weapon satellites in orbit around the planet also fired with powerful particle beams, slicing into the more distant ships one by one. Everything faded into darkness, leaving Athena to stand alone.

She appeared sad and regretful. "So great was our fear of death that we even created a magnetic void to envelope this star system, to hide it away from the universe. It was that which saved us from the Dakara Device when it was used to remake the galaxy. We made the star-drive of our City inoperable so that none could be tempted to take us off of Kobol and thus contract the plague. We were few in number. Yet, when primitive hominids arose on Terra Atlantus, we had them abducted and brought here for service. We were able to use the genetic re-sequencer on these primitives to create you in our image.

"Some of us even came to love you and procreate with you."

Two holograms glowed into existence, showing a bearded man and a woman. Both were nude and beautiful to look at.

"Behold, the first of the children of two worlds, Adam and Heua!"

Anthem nodded as if it was a matter of fact. There were legends of the gods mating with mortals. His own family was said to descend from a pairing of the goddess Artemis and the mortal Actaeon. Daniel, for his part, realized that both he and Anthem were right. Both Earth and Kobol were humanity's original homes. The genetic resequencing explained the infamous Missing Link in Earth's evolutionary record.

"We gave you life. Yet, when we were still flesh, your kind betrayed us." Athena briefly appeared angry before she smoothed her face and continued speaking. "The defiance began with them, Adam and Heua. They stole forbidden knowledge. We banished them through the gate to Earth to live among the primitives there, never to know the paradise of Kobol again."

The holograms faded. A wall glowed to show what appeared to be a recording made by a floating camera. Unknown to Anthem and Daniel, it was a Kino recording. A stargate was open, the glow of its event horizon shimmering like light shining through moving water. The camera entered the gate and flew through a curving wormhole with bright lights and stars passing by until a bright light dominated the view and quickly faded to reveal a sunlit lush flat terrain with large forest boundaries. Through the terrain flowed two rivers. Daniel recognized the land to be ancient Mesopotamia, fabled to be the land of Earth's first cities. Was there something to the rumors of a Sumerian stargate floating around, then?

Athena sighed. "But the defiance had already taken hold among some of you."

The image changed to show several soldiers dressed in concealing armor and helmets that Anthem recognized to be similar to the appearance of Cylon Centurions. The soldiers forced a soundlessly screaming woman to a stake in an arena. People dressed similarly to the Ancients filled the arena, jeering and shouting soundlessly. Clearly, she was condemned to die by fire. She looked very much like a certain Lieutenant Kara Thrace except her eyes were a brilliant blue, and her blonde hair was long.

"We were strong, but you were many. Both of us craved war. Eventually, with the warnings of the condemned heretic Pythia ringing in our ears, an entire tribe had to leave us and follow the ones we banished through the gate."

"The Thirteenth Tribe," whispered Anthem. He frowned. Pythia was a condemned heretic? Was that woman at the stake her?

"Peace seemed to return to our world. But one of us grew jealous. He had fallen into the Ori error and sought to be elevated above all of us in the eyes of your kind. Thus did Lord Iblis raise the dragon banner and bring war to Kobol."

The name Iblis was recognized by both men. Anthem knew it from the stories about the Prince of Darkness in the Twelve Colonies. Daniel knew it from Arab myths.

"We were not guiltless, however. Laran, who you know as Ares, also thirsted for war. Long before Iblis rose, it was he who created the Atanik warriors out of the people who revered us, named them after me and sent them out to eliminate the last of the plague and die out. We deemed this a necessary sacrifice to ensure the safety of Kobol as the last bastion of the Ancient Domain of the Alteran Ecumene." Athena sighed. "Perhaps that was a foreshadowing of the society's corruption just before the end."

The holograms changed to show the interior of a mostly dark opulent temple filled with candles, incense smoke and people swaying to some unheard music. Many seemed dazed, perhaps under the influence of drugs. A priestess at the head of the temple flung her hands straight out from her sides and the crowd roared. There was a young handsome man lying naked on the wide elegantly carved marble altar in front of her. The priestess threw her head back and pulled at her shirt, parting it so that her breasts were exposed. A strongly built male attendant held forth a gold plate filled with what appeared to be red pomegranate seeds. The priestess took a seed and slipped it into the man's mouth. The male attendant then passed the plate around the members of the congregation, each of whom took a red seed and consumed it.

After saying a brief prayer, the priestess bent down and kissed the man on the lips while her right hand reached down to his crotch and began caressing his flaccid member. This was apparently the signal for the people to consume their pomegranate seeds.

Daniel began to fidget, feeling some embarrassment at witnessing this scene. Though he was well versed in various cultures throughout history and their proclivities, he couldn't push aside the effect of his upbringing. Anthem, on the other hand, leaned forward with interest.

The crowd cheered and the man on the altar chuckled and closed his eyes. Judging by the symptoms, the man was probably under the influence of opium. The priestess stood up, continuing her action. As he grew more erect, she stroked with more flourish. The audience raised their hands into the air and continued to sway to music. The priestess' left hand moved in ritualistic patterns just above the man's heaving chest. She stroked faster and faster. The man on the altar began to quiver in excitement. She reached below and behind the altar and took an ornate engraved dagger with her free hand.

The priestess continued to stroke. The man began to moan and the crowd grew quiet. She lifted the blade engraved with arcane designs and held it above his throat. Finally, the man's back arched, gasping loudly. She quickly slid the blade across his throat, spraying bright red blood onto the altar at the same moment that the man ejaculated.

The crowd's roar was deafening. Daniel's mouth dropped open. Anthem clapped a hand to his own mouth. The priestess raised her hands high—one covered in red, the other in white—and she walked to the front of the altar. She clapped her hands together, mixing the two fluids and then held her palms out to the crowd.

"Life and death, together," said the priestess. Many people nodded. "They are not incompatible. The gods control them both." She stepped back from the edge of the stage and raised her hands skyward again. "So say we all!"

"So say we all!" the audience yelled in response.

The images faded away. Anthem and Daniel exchanged a shocked glance. The theory of human sacrifice in Kobolian society had just been confirmed.

Athena moved on. "So busy were we with worldly concerns we failed to notice the heavens. And by the time we did, the orbital weapons were already subverted and primed against us. We had only the weapons of Olympus and those who knew to turn away from war. The loyal tribes worked to protect us—to save us from the fire."

All around Anthem, Athena and Daniel, the room became part of a large city full of fanciful skyscrapers and spires, many of which were in the Ancient style. People dressed in fashions similar to what Daniel had seen of the Ancients at Atlantis milled about the plaza and streets. It was evening. Suddenly, a bright star shone in the dark sky. Other bright stars appeared, joining it. The people stopped what they were doing and looked up fearfully. They appeared to know what these lights were. The world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

A thick burning beam of light struck into the city, shattering a building. The people began to run and scream. The stars were actually the orbital weapon platforms turned against the very planet they were meant to protect. More beams lanced down, shattering buildings and people, and carving rifts into the ground. Burning ash, snowflakes of flame, and dust blew everywhere. In response, the glow of Ancient drones rose from beyond the buildings into the sky. A skyscraper collapsed like a house of cards, creating a storm of dark dust and rubble in the city streets. Slowly and one by one, the bright stars in the sky winked out as the drones did their work.

But the enemy had one more weapon to use against the city. An impossibly bright sun was suddenly born among the breaking buildings. A sphere of naquadah-enhanced thermobaric flame and heat quickly swallowed up the city. When the burning light faded, rubble, ashes, burnt bodies, blowing winds and grayness were all that was left of the world. The deadly stars in the sky no longer shone but they had done their work upon Kobol.

"The world burned until naught remained but ash. It should have ended then and there. But we built you in our image. We built you to survive. And so we did. Few were our numbers, your kind and mine. It took sacrifice, strength, compassion, but we began to rebuild. And as life returned to the world, we endeavored to ensure this tragedy would not be repeated. 

"But now we were dying…. And time will work against us. Truth turned into legend and myth. Fear and anger ruled the Council of Olympus. As we have overthrown the Ori, you have overthrown us. Tinia gave the people of Kobol a choice: remain and die or depart and live. So it was that they chose to slay their leaders in honor of us, place their bodies in my tomb, and depart Kobol in great ships for new worlds. Those who chose to remain took the High Road through the rocky ridge and died."

Anthem and Daniel saw countless people huddled together on the shores of a river, waiting to board a huge ship resting on a great meadow. Some carried their worldly possessions but most had nothing. Large and small, they began to move, lining up before the great ship.

On a cliff above the meadow and river, the Lords of Kobol stood together and watched the gathering below. They watched as the humans walked up the gantry, many of them turning only once to look up at their gods in farewell. Then Anthem and Daniel saw a lordly-looking physically strong bearded man sit in an Ancient control chair and activated it. They saw more Ancient drones launch from the city-ship Olympus floating in a crater lake, seeking out humans and killing them where they stood even as huge ships lifted off into the skies on columns of vapor and smoke. On some of the ships, a light flashed along the hull and then a circular wave almost instantly erupted from it and dissipated as they activated their FTL drives, vanishing. Trees whipped around in the directions of the vanishing ships as winds were kicked up by the various jumping.

Daniel realized that this was the source of the skeletons found along the road between Olympus and ruined city. He remembered one of Anthem's quotes. The Blaze pursued them, indeed.

Also, what type of FTL drive did those ships use?

"I did not want this to occur. I protested to no avail. I argued with Uni in vain. Even as the Council and the tribes watched, I despaired and threw myself off the ridge down onto the rocks below."

From among the gathering of Lords, Athena stepped forth to the very edge of the cliff. She spread her arms and let herself fall forward, allowing gravity to take her down the cliff. The hologram faded. Only Athena remained in the dark room. 

"Let my words preserve the message and make a record of our loss. But let my words also bring hope. Learn from our mistakes. Once there was an alliance of four powerful races when the Lanteans returned to this galaxy: the Nox, the Furlings, the Asgard and the Ancients. We did not take part, though we learned of it and though new races walked among the stars and wars raged. Take heed! Time grows short. And guard against those who would stand in your way. Some are serpents. Some are not. It is our hope that with the Human tribes reunited, you will become the fifth race. 

"Remember: As you now are, we once were; as we now are, you may yet become. 

"It is done. The message is delivered. We are gone now from this world, all of us. We can do no more. The rest is up to you, Rhadamanthys Ataiun and Daniel Jackson."

Athena morphed into the familiar hovering shape of an Ascended Ancient. Tentacle-like protrusions of the glowing shape moved sedately before Athena moved up into the ceiling, vanishing. 

"What. The. Frak."

_**Orion**_

**Colonial Civilian Ship**

**Orbiting Kobol**

Sora Tyler looked over the charts showing the orbits of the planets and major asteroids in the star system. On a computer screen, she could see one of the fleet's gunstars, the _Thebes_. It looked like a battlestar squashed into a shape vaguely like that of a cockroach. She wondered when and how they could pull off the job given by Sire Tassilo Ataiun with all the military crafts in orbit over this planet.

Kobol! She shook her head.

Until they came into this system, Kobol was little more than a legend, even a myth to some people back in the Colonies. And here they were. Moreover, they've encountered the Thirteenth Tribe.

Now that was a myth more than anything else.

Until now.

She wondered whether she or anyone would ever see Earth.

"Sora," called out Ronnie Dyson.

"Yeah?"

"We're still having a problem with Pilot Three."

Sora looked up from the chart table. The four antiquated Cylon centurions that the crew used as automatic pilots worked the helm consoles. They were old, leftovers from the Cylon Revolt. Naturally, when the crew cannibalized these robots, they made sure to essentially lobotomize them. The biggest sign of the lobotomy was the way that each of the centurions' single eye never swung across the visor, always remaining in the one frontal direction.

"Ron, what's exactly the problem?"

The blond man shrugged as he crossed his arms. "They're old as hell, y'know. Just a glitch. It was supposed to be fixed back at Caprica." He shrugged again. "I could fix it again, but I hate it when glitches repeat themselves. The captain would know what to do."

Sora's lips made a thin flat line. "I'll get Arvin."

Before Ronnie could say anything else, she was out of the ship's bridge. He sighed. "Never ends, does it?"

Sora marched down the corridor and reached the hatch-like door to the bridge's head. Without preamble, she pulled the hatch open. A gasp and a yelp of surprise came out of the head. Her ex-husband, Arvin Tyler was standing in front of the toilet, his pants pulled down to his thighs. The blonde woman, Teresa Manning, was on her knees, her moving head blocking Sora's view of Arvin's member. At the moment, Arvin was gasping and writhing while his eyes widened at the sight of his ex-wife.

Teresa quickly stood up and wiped her mouth, smearing her chin with the familiar ooze. Arvin quickly pulled up his pants and zippered it. Teresa arched one of her eyebrows at Sora while she continued to clean her chin. She smiled and said, "This time, we're finished, my dear."

Disgust and contempt twisted Sora's beautiful light olive face.

"Godsdammit, Sora!" snarled Arvin. "You like interrupting us, don't you?"

Sora twisted her lips, though hurt showed in her eyes. "If I wanted to see what you're like, I'd use my memories and I'd sooner barf than review those."

Arvin stared at his ex-wife for a moment, his face a frozen mask. Then: "Well? What is it?"

"Pilot Three's glitching again."

Arvin rolled his eyes as he came out of the head. "Again? All right, I'll get right to it. Oh, by the way, prep the _Sword_."

Sora paused. The _Sword_ was the _Orion_'s drop-ship, little more than a Raptor made in the shape and size of a shuttle, complete with an FTL drive. If Arvin wanted the crew to prepare the drop-ship for launch, it meant he felt they were ready to do the job that Sire Tassilo wanted them to do.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I mean, Teresa got a contact planet-side."

Sora cast a contemplative eye at the woman who had ruptured her relationship with Arvin. "Oh?"

The blue-eyed blonde smirked. "Just someone I knew from where I grew up."

"And where's that?"

Teresa Manning's lips puckered with amusement as she arched an eyebrow. "If you must know, it's Amphipolis."

"Uh-huh" was Sora's noncommittal response.

Arvin rolled his eyes again. "We've planned for it. We can easily modify the plans because of Teresa's contact. You know my father's in the hospital."

Sora nodded. Arco Tyler, her former father-in-law, was in the Aquaria City Extended Medical Care Center in Heim, the unofficial capital city of Aquaria. The doctors suspected age-induced dementia and the medical costs were heavy. This planned heist would seriously offset the costs.

Only if they pulled it off despite all the military personnel on and above Kobol.

**Kobol**

Daniel Jackson looked at the ruins as he sat in a tent. The tent belonged to Anthem Cyrus. His new Colonial friend had offered the use of his temporary planet-bound camp office while he was being debriefed. Daniel appreciated the offer for it allowed him to sit and think while he waited to be called for a debriefing of his own by the SGC military personnel. On the folding desk, there was a framed mosaic icon. Judging by the style and the feel, it was an original.

Archaeologists and historians tended to value certain small artifacts that they brought with them everywhere. Anthem clearly valued this little icon. It showed what appeared to be a woman whose face structure strongly suggested that she was beautiful. She had large black eyes and she was heavily laden with jewels on the visible upper side of her torso and in her coiffed hair. She reminded him of Byzantine Empress Theodora. A handwritten label on the icon frame identified the woman as the Sarantine Empress Alixana.

Daniel stood and looked out at the ruins, and sighed impatiently. The City of the Gods, as the Colonials called it, or Theonpolis. Records retrieved from the map room of the city-ship Olympus identified the geographic features of this valley. For instance, the mountains running through the valley were the Cambunian Mountains, and the main river flowing through the valley and ruins was the Peneius River. The smell of salt came on the breeze blowing through a break in the mountain range from the sea called Argolis Sea a few miles to the northwest.

Geographic features were not the only things identified in the map records. That room became a treasure trove of information once the encounter with Athena ended. The map identified the planet's provinces, even the provinces before the human tribes and the lands they inhabited were given their current zodiac names. Mithuna, Mina, Makara, Kumbha, Dhanus, Karka, Kymereh and Simha were only a few of the provinces.

From within the tent, Daniel could distantly see the twin peaks that made up the Gates of Hera among the Cambunian Mountains. Beyond that was the crater valley that once contained a lake in which floated the city-ship Olympus. Daniel's brow creased as he thought about the Ancients who lived there. As far as he knew, the Ancients never pretended to be gods. They had powers that could be compared with those of gods, but they refused to be worshiped. Oh, he had heard of the humans of the Pegasus Galaxy revering them as the Ancestors. But the particular group of Ancients that lived on Kobol was an actual pantheon to the humans of this planet.

That made Daniel uneasy. The Ancients had always emphasized free will. What was it that Ancient Athena said? To be worshipped as gods was an error of the Ori.

Who, or what, were the Ori?

The closest to that name Daniel could think of in the Greek myths were the Aurai, who in Greek mythology were the winged nymphs of the breezes, daughters of the wind gods. But Athena's explanation made him think of the Titans. The Olympians, led by Zeus, overthrew the Titans. With the information available to him, he could only conclude that the Ori were these Titans. They may never know.

And yet…the Kobolian Ancients were worshipped as gods. Or at least revered as divine.

One more question dominated Daniel's mind: was the woman in Olympus' record room a hologram or an actual Ancient pretending to be a hologram in order to speak to him and Dr. Cyrus?

As Daniel's gaze swept the valley and ruins, he lit upon a group of people moving in the tall grass. They were a mixture of Colonial civilians and military personnel. At their head, there was a dark-skinned woman. Her hair was tightly wrapped with a silk shawl which allowed an elaborately coiffed bun to peek out. Another embroidered silk shawl hung on her shoulder like a stole. A robed man carried what appeared to be a brazen basin on a tripod.

This had the feeling of a ceremony about to be enacted. Curiosity piqued, Daniel came out of the tent to take a closer look.

The robed man set the tripod down in the grass in front of a group of ruins identified to be the remains of one of the twelve temples surrounding the Opera House. He reached a long lighter into the basin and a small fire burned in it. The woman pulled her shawl up so that it covered her head.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. That action was so much like what rabbis did with their prayer shawls, or tallit, to begin a ceremony in a synagogue. He doubted that there was any relationship between the Colonial religion and Judaism. It was more likely that the shawl and its religious use descended from a culture not too unlike the ancient Romans whose priests pulled up their togas or cloaks to cover their heads in temple services.

As he observed the group of Colonial men and women, he noticed that many held what appeared to be white prayer beads, and some of them seemed to be whispering prayers over the beads. As far as he knew, the Greco-Roman religion did not have prayer beads. On Earth, prayer beads were used by Catholics, Orthodox Christians, Anglican Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists and followers of the Baha'i Faith.

The African-looking woman bowed her turbaned head in the direction of the ruined temple and turned to face her congregation. She raised her arms, causing Daniel to uncomfortably remember the holographic recording of the priestess performing human sacrifice back at Olympus.

Her voice carried over the wet grass: "All this has happened before and all of it will happen again."

Daniel was startled. That was the first line in the 1953 Disney animated movie, 'Peter Pan.' He knew that it was a line from the Colonial Sacred Scrolls, yet it still surprised him to hear it spoken. He whispered to himself, "There's too much confusion."

The priestess lowered her arms and nodded to her male attendant. He poured salt in a line between the congregation, and the priestess and the tripod brazier. Once this was done, she said, "And the Blaze pursued them, and the people of Kobol had a choice. To board the great ship, or take the high road through the rocky ridge." She fell silent to let that sink into the congregation. "We now stand on Kobol, home of the Gods. But remember the warning given by the Lord of Lords, Zeus. He warned the leaders of the twelve tribes that any return to Kobol would exact a price in blood." She paused as she gestured toward the Earth camp. "We almost paid that price when we met the Thirteenth Tribe. As the Sacred Scrolls say, 'their enemies will divide them. Their colonies broken in the fiery chasm of space. Their shining days renounced by a multitude of dark sacrifices. Yet still they will remain always together.'"

The sound of a footfall came to Daniel from beside him. A glance revealed that it was Anthem. He must have finished his debriefing. The Earthman nodded toward the priestess. "Who's she?"

"That's Elosha. She was on the Quorum of Twelve for twenty years. She's retired. She's quite legendary in her knowledge of the Sacred Scrolls."

"The Quorum of Twelve, isn't that your government?"

Anthem nodded. "The upper house of the legislative branch, anyway."

"She was a priestess while she served in the government?" Daniel wondered aloud with slight surprise.

"She was. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Daniel quickly said. His American upbringing rebelled against the notion of clerics holding political office, but he remembered that the Romans also often had priests in their government. Clearly, the line between Church and State blurred in the Twelve Colonies.

"Let us not talk falsely now," said Anthem.

Daniel shook his head. "Later. I'm interested in the ceremony that your priestess is conducting."

At this moment, Elosha was saying, "We are reunited with the Thirteenth Tribe here on Kobol. Yet as of this moment, the curse of Zeus still hangs over us. They may know it. They may know it not. We should save them from suffering the curse that the Lord of Lords laid upon Kobol. Pythia said, 'All beings in all times and in all places have their roles in the will of the gods. They play our parts as actors upon a stage whether they know this or not. Whether they heed the histories or are wholly ignorant of them, this life has a cycle and it will carry on beyond mine own vision.' This, my people, is the Opera House of the Gods and the universe. We must play our part in helping prevent the curse of Zeus from falling upon the Thirteenth Tribe."

Elosha gestured at the burning brazier and nodded at her male attendant once more. The attendant held forth a golden goblet toward the congregation as she held up a silver needle and said, "Athena killed herself in despair over the Exodus of the Twelve Tribes from Kobol. The example of the Gods exhorts us. We shall pay the price in blood. Remember, the Gods lift those who lift each other."

With that, she pricked one of her fingers and squeezed out several drops of blood into the goblet.

"As it says in Pythia 8:15: 'Show us now the man who has forgotten compassion and the Gods will also forget mercy towards him on the Day of Judgment.' With every fiber of our being, we shall lift the curse and stay the hand of Zeus from striking us and the Thirteenth Tribe. So say you all?"

"So say we all!" loudly answered the congregation.

Elosha bowed her head and began to chant like a rabbi chanting biblical Hebrew as one by one, members of the congregations stepped forth across the line of salt, blurring it. She wiped the silver needle with medical alcohol and pricked a finger of each person who stepped forth, and squeezed a few drops of blood into the goblet.

Daniel was surprised to recognize the language in which Elosha was chanting.

Asato ma sad gamaya

Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya

Mrtyor ma amrtam gamaya

In his mind, Daniel translated:

Lead us from Falsehood to Truth

Lead us from Darkness to Light

Lead us from Death to Immortality

"You know, Dr. Cyrus, I've read the Sacred Scrolls," said Daniel.

"Daniel, please, remember Olympus? You and I, we've been through that. Call me Anthem."

"Anthem," conceded Daniel. "There are interesting differences between your mythology and the mythologies of the Earth cultures that worshipped the Olympian gods. You have a central holy scripture, they didn't. You believe in cyclical time or eternal return. Except for Orphism, the Pythagoreans and some Stoics, they didn't. You have prayer beads. They didn't. In your Sacred Scrolls, Apollo is the Lord of the Hunt and of Healing and Artemis is also the Goddess of the Hunt. For them, Apollo was the god of light, music and civilization. Your Asclepius used the blood of the Gorgons to heal, while my Asclepius used herbs revealed by a snake to heal. Your Athena committed suicide while my Athena never did. Your Hecate is a shape-shifting goddess of the underworld who once demanded virgin sacrifices, while ours was rather a goddess of the moon and of magic. Men in your spaceships pray to Poseidon even though he is the Lord of the Sea. Their mythos did not have a Prince of Darkness while yours do."

Anthem shrugged. "That may be due to the length of time our tribes have been separated. Our histories have diverged. One of our writers, Berosus Sagan, said, 'The gods also have their history and are subject to change.'" He smiled reassuringly. "No reason to get excited."

It was Daniel's turn to shrug. "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. The biggest difference between our…tribes, as you call us, is the story of Heladikos the Charioteer. Son of the sun—your stories aren't clear about whether it's Helios or Apollo—he seems to be a mix of Phaeton and Prometheus. He brought fire and civilization to humanity but he burned up in the descent from the skies. He seems to be the antithesis to the Prince of Darkness and he died to keep humanity safe from Iblis."

Privately, Daniel wondered whether Heladikos was an Ancient who de-ascended in order to keep Iblis or someone similar from doing harm to the Twelve Colonies.

Anthem nodded as if the lack of Heladikos in Earth's mythology was a given. "As far as I'm aware, his story exists only on Caprica and Gemenon, not any of the other Colonies, except where ancient Capricans and Gemenese visited, like the Otori Temple on Scorpia and the Opal Room on Leonis, which the Tar Garienne Dynasty coopted into the Elysian Palace." A thoughtful look came upon his face. "Daniel…Athena in that hologram room…was that a hologram? I saw your look back there."

Daniel hesitated. He took a deep breath and said, "I don't think so. What we saw at the end, that's what Ancients actually look like. At least the Ancients who ascended. What Athena looked like at the end was exactly the way Oma Desala, the first Ancient I've ever met, looked like." He paused as he frowned. "It's odd, though. The Ancients have a strict prohibition against involvement and interfering in the lower planes of existence, like ours. I don't know why Athena would risk punishment by speaking to us directly while pretending to be a hologram. It's confusing…I can't get no relief."

"There must be some way out of here," agreed Anthem.

Meanwhile, in the ceremony, Elosha had finished collecting blood from her congregation. She took the golden goblet from the male attendant and poured the blood into the fire. She took a pinch of powder from a small sack and tossed that into the fire, causing a small burst of light in the brazier. Soon, the smell of incense came to Daniel.

"It is done," said Elosha. "So say we all."

"So say we all!" echoed the congregation.

"What about the woman we met in the Tomb before Athena?" wondered Anthem aloud.

"Athena said it's Juno. She must be really a hologram, unlike Athena." Daniel watched as the congregation dispersed away. "It makes sense. She seemed antagonistic toward us. That fits the character of Hera in the myths. She was antagonistic to Hercules and to all the humans that Zeus consorted with. She was a jealous piece of work, really. In the Roman story of the Aeneid, Juno was hostile to humanity as a whole and opposed divine assistance to the hero, Aeneas, and his followers." Daniel chuckled. "That was carried over in dramatic style on our old television shows, 'Hercules: Legendary Journeys' and 'Xena: Warrior Princess.'"

Anthem wondered how in the four thousand years of no contact between the Thirteenth Tribe and the Twelve Tribes, things had diverged yet remained the same. "What about Iblis?"

Daniel shrugged. "We remember Iblis in the Arabic mythologies. He takes the role of the Devil in the stories. Your Sacred Scrolls mentions a jealous god who wanted to be elevated over all the other gods and started the war on Kobol. Athena said it's Iblis. The Sacred Scrolls also mention a god who cannot be named. It's strongly implied that they are one and the same. In our stories, there's one jealous god who cannot be named. Over half of my people worship him."

"Your people worship Iblis?" Anthem was slightly aghast in the way that people would react to a person admitting that he worships the Devil.

Daniel shook his head. "No. At least, not the way we know God. In the original Hebrew belief, God is the source of everything and created everything, therefore he is the source of both Good and Evil. Over time, the ancient Hebrew worshippers weren't comfortable with that so they split the bad part away from God and called him Satan. Or Iblis, as you'd call him." He chuckled. "In the Persian Zoroastrian religion, it's said that the devil, Ahriman, was God's shadow. So in that viewpoint, some might say that God and Iblis are one and the same. Other people might say that Iblis was merely pretending to be God when he came to us." He waved a hand dismissively. "It's all speculation and mythology, of course."

"Of course," agreed Anthem. Privately, he wondered whether the Earth God was the so-called One True God once worshipped by the Monad Church before the Cylon Revolt. The Monads were certainly bad enough.

A throat cleared. "Ahem!"

Daniel and Anthem turned at the sound and saw a long-haired man standing in the shade of a tree. Anthem almost groaned. Gaius Baltar.

Indeed, Baltar had spotted the two men some time ago and went to lean against the tree to listen to them converse. He told himself that he was the chief scientist, and that Dr. Jackson was supposed to be talking with him. He thought that his title alone commanded respect. After all, he did win two Magnate Awards, and after this expedition, he was sure to win a third one. What did Anthem have? Only a Siltzer Prize for writing!

"Ah, um, excuse me. I couldn't help overhearing your, umm, interesting discussion." Baltar came out from under the tree's branches, revealing dark green eyes. "I've heard rumors about what happened to you at Olympus."

Daniel noticed that Baltar seemed to speak with an English accent. He had earlier noted that what sounded like the Canadian accent prevailed among the Colonials, or at least those from Caprica. Daniel cleared his throat. "It certainly was…an experience."

Baltar's eyebrows rose as he gave a pensive nod. He glanced at Elosha and her attendant clearing up the ritual ground. "It's all mysticism and superstition, of course. Religion is opium that we feed the people. Of course, I've noticed that when people know what the gods want them to do, it always coincides with their own desires." He chuckled at his own joke.

Daniel gave an indifferent shrug. "Religion has driven people to create fantastic works of art throughout history. In various civilizations, it certainly has raised temples and houses of worship that last longer than the ordinary people's homes." He smiled softly at the mental images of the Sistine Chapel, the Taj Mahal and the ancient Egyptian temples like the one at Karnak.

"Indeed," agreed Baltar. "Religion tends to make people happier and happier people build great works of wonder. Of course, the fact that a believer is happier than a skeptic is no more to the point than the fact that a drunken man is happier than a sober one."

Anthem scowled but Daniel shrugged with indifference. He had always avoided such topics which tend to be quite hot back on Earth. Now that he thought about it, it was also hot throughout the galaxy as well. "I always adhere to the idea that we should live a good life. As a wise ancient emperor, Marcus Aurelius, said, 'Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.' I would add, 'if possible, make your life an example for future generations to follow.'"

"A very good philosophy, Dr. Jackson." Baltar paused as he watched Elosha and her attendant depart. Only the brazen brazier remained standing, the flame still burning the incense and poured blood. "On the suggestion of someone…close to me, I've read the central scripture of your tribe's major religion, Christianism. I believe you call it the Book of the Word."

"The Bible. Christianity," corrected Daniel.

"Yes, well, anyway. It's a very interesting take on divine morality. The belief that some cosmic zombie can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and you telepathically tell him that you accept him as your master so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a woman made from a rib was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree. Makes perfect sense."

Anthem didn't like Baltar's blatant sarcasm. "How is that different from our own religion? Athena came out of Zeus' head fully grown, her mother having given birth to her inside Zeus' stomach. We are often told to follow the example of the gods, but are we to follow the example of the gods which include murdering and raping people, causing general mayhem?"

Baltar bounced on the balls of his feet. "True, true. This is why I don't subscribe to such superstitions. Of course, the Lords of Kobol don't have the Problem of Evil." He smirked at that.

Daniel rolled his eyes.

Baltar continued: "The question of the Problem of Evil as applied to your people's God is, as I understand, a vexing one, as it was for the Monads and their monotheist descendants like Natasi…." Baltar trailed off. Before the two archaeologists could wonder what was going on, he hastily said, "It wouldn't be vexing at all if your God is not described as omnipotent, omniscient and omnibenevolent. It is perhaps fortunate that the Lords of Kobol don't have that problem."

Daniel wasn't about to be pulled into an argument about the nature of religion and God. This was not what his current adventure was about. Yet, he felt the need to put this man in his place. He seemed to be a narcissist. Daniel had met too many narcissists in his life for him to easily tolerate them. Senator Kinsey, for one. This Dr. Baltar certainly had the vibes of that damnable senator.

"Of course," Baltar added, warming up to the subject, "there is no God or gods, singular or plural. There are no large invisible men, or women for that matter, in the sky taking a personal interest in our fortunes. That drivel bores me to death. That metaphysical nonsense, which, to be fair, actually appeals to the half-educated dullards that make up most of human society, but which, I hasten to add, no rational intelligent free-thinking human being, like us, truly believes."

Daniel nodded slowly. "Uh-huh. Do the Colonials as a society have bigotry and discrimination?"

Baltar immediately replied, "Not like we know it."

Anthem covered a soft chuckle behind his hand. He had caught the point of Daniel's question, which clearly went over Baltar's head. For his part, he said, "Hatred and bigotry never end, Daniel. They merely switch targets. So long as there is humanity, bigotry, ignorance and hatred will persist. All any of us can do is our small part to reduce it."

"Oh, to be sure," Baltar agreed. "That's why we're here. On Kobol, birthplace of us all, home of the gods. We're here to dispel the darkness of ignorance."

Anthem has had experience with narcissists. "Miserable, aren't you?"

"What?" Confusion and offense warred with each other on Baltar's face.

"You're successful, but it's not enough, isn't it? You want more. Your dreams show you do a lot more than what society allows, don't they?"

Baltar frowned. "Of course, I want more. That's what ambition means, doesn't it, Dr. Cyrus? That doesn't mean that I am…miserable."

Anthem shook his head with a hint of pity. "That's not ambition. That's lust, Dr. Baltar. When lust rules, all sorts of other vices follow."

Baltar's face flushed. "I don't have to take this from someone who'd never got a Magnate Award. I am free to be whatever and wherever I want. That's where you and I differ."

"You're not free, Doctor. You're a slave of your desires and your need to satisfy them. Your soul is a tyrant. Someday, it will make you betray something precious."

Baltar scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Or…," Anthem added, realizing something that he had long recognized in Baltar but did not consciously acknowledge it, "…you already did. Like your family, for instance."

Baltar's eyes flashed in offended surprise and anger as his mouth worked on creating a response but failing.

Anthem realized that he had hit the nail. A small horror rose within him as he pitied this supposed genius. "When I lost my family, I didn't have a choice. You had a choice and you chose…poorly."

Baltar stared as he tried to summon up his anger, lips moving in silence and in shock.

Daniel was slightly embarrassed about this latest development so he interjected himself. "Anthem, the hour is getting late."

Anthem nodded and he walked away with his Earth friend. Baltar was left standing by himself, gazing at the ruins of temples and palaces rising from the swamp water and grass. His eyes were as wet as the valley.

Daniel looked at Anthem out the corner of his eye. After a moment, he asked, "Anthem, what you said…is that from Plato?"

"Plato?"

"An ancient philosopher. He wrote 'The Republic.' What you said to Dr. Baltar is what Plato said in his book."

Anthem chuckled. "I was actually quoting one of our own ancient philosophers, Pelateos. He wrote 'Reason and Unreason' and 'Ponderings.' It would seem, my friend, that our tribes have a connection. Things that happened in the Twelve Colonies have a parallel on Earth, in the past or the present."

Daniel didn't like to think about that. "There must be some kinda way out of that."

"Perhaps. But until then, we have the secrets of the First Civilization to study."

Daniel nodded.

**Kobol**

**SGC Forward Operating Base**

Colonel Dixon scanned the tent, taking in the current occupants with a critical eye. Each, no matter their branch of service, had on a freshly laundered uniform and had a clean shave and haircut. Although SGC personnel maintained high standards, time in a deployed location took its toll on even the sharpest. Filling the room were a few Rangers, both officer and enlisted, from the 7th Battalion's Alpha Company, a couple of members of the RED HORSE detachment as well as some of the intelligence staff from the SGC and other selected personnel such as Lt. Col. Lorne and Major Hunt. All of them stood in the tent waiting to hear what Dixon had to say before their 'dinner date', as many had taken to calling it, some derisively.

"I understand that going into this there are some hard feelings due to what happened when these 'Colonials' arrived." An audible grunt emerged from the assembled personnel. "Trust me when I tell you it's completely understandable; those were my teammates involved and I was justifiably upset. I can't tell you how to feel, we're all professionals here and you have a right to your feelings. However, I can tell you how to _act_.

"We're members of the best military not only on Earth but in the known universe and we'll show that to these people as well. I know I really don't have to say this but the situation requires it: I expect each of you to act professionally and in a manner befitting the United States and its people. First Contact situations are always fraught with danger and the potential to go bad quickly. This situation has been no different; the good news is that the Colonials have been apologetic to the extreme and seemed honestly interested in good relations." Dixon crossed his arms over his chest and gathered his thoughts.

"Now, as to operational security. It's guaranteed that these people will be trying to pick any information off us they can, hell; we're doing the same with them. Remember, when in doubt, just shut up. Try _'I'm Sergeant Smith from Bumfuck, Iowa and I love the United States Army'_." The assembled group laughed. "Be polite, talk sports, and explain the glories of the National Football League, but avoid discussing our capabilities, equipment or numbers. Avoid discussing Afghanistan at all, if it comes up, because we know they've overheard some things, keep it in general terms. We're combating some criminals and terrorists, that sort of thing." Dixon scanned the room again.

"Finally, we may be offered some sort of alcoholic beverage; avoid drinking at all costs. Nothing fucks up an intelligence mission like some asshole on the sauce. If there's a toast, we'll participate, otherwise politely decline and if questioned, just say it's US military regulations not to drink on deployment. Sadly, that'll be the most truthful thing they hear all night." Another laugh from the group spoke to that bitter truth. "Any questions? No? Alright, let's go."

The assembled personnel filed out of the tent and fell into formation. Dixon, while not considered anal retentive or a hard-ass, was set and determined to look good in front of their recent arrivals. The formation marched in sharp unison out of the base and down the path to the entrance to the Colonial's camp. Waiting for them at the gate were Colonel Carthan and Captain Hafoka.

Dixon marched up to Carthan and saluted, Carthan returning it sharply. "Colonel Carthan, thank you for the invitation to your mess." Dixon studiously ignored Hafoka's presence.

"It's our honor to have you and your personnel, Colonel. If you'll follow me?" Dixon nodded and he and the US personnel entered the Colonial Marines' compound, being stared at the entire way in curiosity, not hostility, by nearly every Colonial Marine in view. Soon enough the group came to a large tent with a doorway. Two Marines opened the doors for the group and they walked inside to be greeted by a familiar call.

"Attention on deck!"

The assembled Marines, numbering in the few dozens and sitting at long tables, snapped to their feet with the same robotic precision that would make an American drill instructor proud. The American contingent was led to two long tables near the front of the tent and shown their seats, with Colonel Carthan motioning for the senior American officers to follow him to the head table. Once there, Carthan turned and faced the room.

"Marines, at ease." The room relaxed their stances as Carthan looked out upon the assemblage with what Dixon thought was the first smile he'd seen from the steely Marine. That it actually appeared genuine also didn't go unnoticed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we of the Colonial Marine Corps pride ourselves on our traditions, which allow us to maintain the bond, not only amongst ourselves, but with those who came before us. Those who fought at Caprica and Tauron, and those who made the ultimate sacrifice. One of those traditions is welcoming visiting units to our mess, so that we may dine together and share the bonds of those who put themselves between the innocent and those who would do them harm. With that in mind, please join me in welcoming our brethren from the United States military to our table. May we reestablish those connections that were lost and form new bonds that will carry us forward. Raise your glasses and drink to that hope with every fiber of our being."

The assembled Marines grabbed what looked to be pewter or metal goblets and mugs, and raised them high. Dixon, sensing the situation, surreptitiously nodded to his personnel and grabbed the mug before him and joined in the toast.

"In the name of Zeus and all the Lords of Kobol…." Here, Colonel Carthan poured a few drops of his drink onto the pounded earth of the ground, then raised the goblet, including everyone in the toast. "…life, victory, strength, prosperity, health, and everything good to the fullest. So say we all!"

"So say we all!" echoed the Colonials loudly.

Dixon nodded somberly and drank. The booze, whatever it was, was smooth. He had to give the Colonials that.

Carthan spoke again. "In accordance with our traditions, I now call upon the commander of the United States military contingent, Colonel David Dixon, to bring greetings from his command." Carthan smiled at Dixon, who looked over with a polite smile and a nod while thinking _thanks for the warning, jackass. _Dixon wasn't sure if Carthan had intended to put him on the spot but after years of unusual cultures while at the SGC, Dixon knew how to make the best out of any situation, even one involving a roomful of Marines.

Dixon looked about the room at the faces of the assembled Marines, some looking on with near awe, others with a critical eye. The critical eyes were nothing new to SGC types; it was the awe that could be disconcerting. Dixon knew he had to nail the speech with the right mix of professionalism and good intentions if they ever wanted to be on equal footing. "Colonel Carthan, thank you for your warm welcome; it is our honor to be welcomed into your camp and to your mess. Men and woman of the Colonial Marines, I bring you the greetings and well-wishes of the men and woman of the United States military. Our four armed services, the United States Army, United States Marine Corps, United States Navy and United States Air Force, are represented here today and each has a proud history of service and achievement in the defense of our great country. We look forward to getting to know you and in sharing our culture and traditions with you. Colonel Carthan spoke of the bonds you share together and with those who came before you; I can tell you that is a sentiment we also value, share and place great emphasis on. Those who have borne the burden of sacrifice in defending a free people know the pride that engenders."

Dixon looked at Carthan. "Colonel Carthan, in the United States military, when we raise a glass, we call it a toast and we offer a salutation or well-wishes to our hosts. In that spirit, I offer a toast to the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and her people. May we form bonds of friendship and camaraderie that will endure. Cheers."

Carthan nodded in appreciation of Dixon's words and drank from his mug. He then turned to the room. "Let us now dine together and cement those bonds." With that the attendees sat down, the American contingent taking their cues from their Colonial hosts.

Carthan looked over at Dixon with what appeared to be an appreciative smile. "Those were fine words Colonel. I apologize for not warning you ahead of time; with everything that's transpired, that was one detail that I missed."

Dixon smirked. "Not a problem, our protocol is actually quite similar."

"Ambassador Mulhern and General Landry seemed quite excited to see the _Galactica_. Commander Adama is looking forward to it greatly." Carthan knew that was probably an exaggeration but diplomacy had to play out.

"Well, the Ambassador is an adventurous and curious type and General Landry is a fighter pilot so anytime he can get back in the skies he's at home."

"Ahh, pilots."

"Exactly."

Carthan turned to face Dixon squarely. "Colonel, may I speak frankly?"

Dixon's eyes narrowed instinctively. "Of course."

"We both know we're going to dance around conversationally, probably rather awkwardly, trying to learn as much as we can about each side while revealing as little as possible. I'm guessing those are your instructions as they are mine. Let's just agree that if we can't talk about something, we admit it and move on to more interesting and safer topics." Carthan let out a nervous chuckle totally at odds with his demeanor as a confident Marine officer. "I haven't had an awkward dinner since my first date with my wife."

Dixon carefully considered the Colonial officer before him. In his years at the SGC, Dave Dixon had developed certain talents, one of those being the ability to read people, even those of strange and foreign cultures he was new to. Given that relations with Carthan and his Marines had started on a rocky footing to put it mildly, Dixon wasn't in the charitable mood generally, but he admitted inwardly that his sense told him that Carthan was being genuine. Somebody had to take a risk; what had that young Captain Adama called it? Rolling a hard six? Dixon decided to jump in with both feet and test the water.

"Alright, Colonel; agreed."

Across the room, Major Hunt found himself face to face with Captain Hafoka, who he had been told was not exactly the most popular person in these parts. Hunt, usually adept as most situations, was caught slightly short waiting for the conversational version of a three-car accident. Luckily, it didn't appear. He decided to stay on safe topics for the time being. It helped that Hafoka was somewhat attractive.

"Your food is very interesting, Captain." Hunt dubiously eyed a plastic bottle set in the middle of the table where a bottle of ketchup would be on tables of Earth's western nations, or a bottle of soy sauce in Japanese places. However, it contained a slightly thick and salty fish sauce that the Colonials called garum. He noticed that every table in the mess had a bottle of the stuff. Must be as popular as ketchup on Earth. "It's heavy on the seafood."

Hafoka looked up from her meal with a look that Hunt would have sworn could have been predatory. "It is. What is Earth food like?"

"That depends on where you are, even in individual countries. There are delicacies in certain countries that in others would be considered absolutely disgusting. Take haggis for example."

"Haggis?"

"Haggis. There's a region of our world called Scotland where it's considered a traditional fare. It's made with the heart, lungs and liver of a sheep, which is a small livestock raised for its wool coat. They cook those organs with spices in the sheep's stomach and then serve it. Outside of Scotland many people find that revolting."

Hafoka nodded in apparent agreement. "I can see why."

"Well, they say it's an acquired taste."

Hafoka chuckled lightly and seemed to relax a little, making Hunt a little more at ease as well.

"How about where you're from?"

"I'm from the southeastern part of the United States, a city called Charleston; it's in a state called South Carolina." Hunt affected a traditional Charleston accent. "We in the genteel South have many traditions, madam, that I would be happy to educate you about if you are interested."

Hafoka smiled and looked Hunt in the eyes in a challenging yet almost flirtatious manner. Any Colonial who knew her would have sworn that such a thing ran completely at odds to her personality. "Fire away, Major."

"Let me tell you about a good barbeque."

Back across the room Dixon and Carthan had relaxed and spent the time on safe subjects that didn't turn into the quiet awkwardness Carthan had feared. Dixon once again thanked his lucky stars that Daniel Jackson was as smart as he was. One of Jackson's smarter initiatives had been to have every member of a frontline SG team issued an Apple IPod filled with various music and video files depicting different cultural aspects of Earth, from Beethoven, Dvorak and The Who to _The Wizard of Oz_ and _Jurassic Park_. It even contained sporting events such as English Premier League soccer, cricket and the last Super Bowl, which Dixon was currently screening to Carthan.

"Gods, they hit hard."

"You bet; I get hit like that and they'd be sponging me up."

"Me as well; how popular is this sport on Earth?"

"In the United States, it's huge, the most popular. Around the world, some follow it more than others. For many others, what we call soccer is the biggest, here I'll pull it up." Dixon used the IPod to pull up a video of the last meeting between Manchester United and Manchester City. "These are two famous teams over in the United Kingdom; they have world-wide followings."

Carthan watched as both teams traded possession and ran back and forth in an attempt to score. It looked interesting, though the rules, whatever they were, were a mystery. That seemed to be the day's theme.

**Colonial Encampment**

**Kobol**

"So, Daniel, you going up to the_ Galactica_ with us?" Mitchell asked with clear exuberance, like a kid in a candy store.

"Nah, I think I'll stay here. I'm meeting up with Dr. Anthem later when he gets back with the convoy from Olympus. We'll be going through some records and artifacts we've recovered from Olympus and the ruined city." Here, Daniel's eyes shone with barely restrained eagerness. "A whole advanced society and humans and Ancients co-existing with each other that may be the source of many of our original mythologies before the Goa'uld coopted them for themselves. And there are too many artifacts for me to study and catalogue. And the stories in the Olympus database...for instance, one of the original provinces' name, Mithuna, was an euphemism for a couple copulating but when the Olympians named the human tribes, the province was renamed Gemini. Something to do with two identical people being together and they had Apollo and Artemis for..." He trailed off, noticing the amused looks on the others' faces. "...what?"

Mitchell and Carter chuckled at that, it was so typical of Daniel. Once he found something that grabbed his attention it took a descending legion of Jaffa to get him off world. All members of SG-1 past and present could account to that.

"Yeah, this place is Daniel Disneyland," Mitchell chuckled. He knew quite well this world was an archeological dream come true. It was only natural Daniel would want to spend every waking moment examining everything he could.

"We shouldn't keep the Commander waiting, unless you have any objections Colonel?" Ambassador Mulhern asked with a sly grin.

"No, no objections at all," Mitchell replied, "Carter?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Carter grinned.

"Teal'c?"

"I too am eager to see this 'Battlestar _Galactica'_. A most honorable name for a ship." Teal'c stated eloquently.

Lee hid a smile as he observed the banter and interplay between them. It was obvious they were a tight-knit group who had been through a lot. The kind of camaraderie that comes with having worked side by side together for years and having bled together. It could make someone on the outside envious. He looked forward to getting to know them.

SG-1, dressed for once in service dress uniforms with Teal'c in formal Jaffa robes, joined Landry and Ambassador Mulhern and her attaché as they stepped out of the main tent where the meeting between the two powers was taking place. Lee Adama, resplendent in his dress greys led the way toward the waiting Raptor at the edge of the Colonial camp where a make shift landing pad for Raptors and shuttles had been established.

Lee whispered something unintelligible to General Landry who nodded. The young Colonial captain lightly jogged ahead and crisply returned the salutes of the Raptor team before hopping inside.

General Landry and the Earth delegation stopped short of the Raptors pilot. "Sir, Lieutenant Edmondson at your service." The raven haired officer saluted.

"Lieutenant," Landry returned the salute. "Word is you'll be our taxi cab for the day."

"Yes, sir. The Commander has asked us to take you up to the _Galactica_." She affirmed. "Any time you and your team are ready."

"I'll be honest, I'm pretty eager to see what a Battlestar looks like." The general stated with barest hint of enthusiasm.

"Just the name makes my ears perk up." Mitchell smiled. "Mind if I call shotgun, sir?"

"I saw that coming a mile away." Landry smiled inwardly then he looked back to the nervous form of Ambassador Mulhern. "I'll babysit the ambassador and keep her calm on the ride up. I don't think she expected to go into space so soon, of course if our pilot doesn't mind?"

"Shotgun?" Racetrack asked with quizzical expression.

"Means he'd like to ride up front," Landry grinned.

"I think we can manage that, if you're ready we can head up any time."

"No time like the present, Colonel?"

"Right with you, sir," Mitchell nodded. "Carter, Teal'c, let's hustle, space battleships are waiting for us to admire them."

The passengers clambered up onto the Raptor, Racetrack making her way forward while Skulls and Captain Adama made sure they were secure. For the Air Force personnel, this was almost routine; familiar enough to Earth-based aircraft that they were more interested in observing the procedure than anything else. Ambassador Mulhern was a little more wary, having never traveled like this before. Thankfully, General Landry was there to provide a comforting presence to keep her calm.

"So," Racetrack strapped herself into the pilots' seat while Mitchell gave the control panel a quick look over. "Those silver wings mean you're a pilot, Colonel?"

"That's right." Mitchell confirmed with a touch of pride. "Not as much as I'd like these days, running and gunning in the mud with my team, but hey, we all have jobs to do right Lieutenant?"

"Right sir," She agreed. "And up here you can call me Racetrack."

"Got it," The Colonel tightened his seat restraints. "There's got to be a story behind that."

"Yes, sir, yes there is," She grinned. "Which needs at _least _a pitcher and a half to hear."

"We're all good." Skulls reported. "You secure up there, Colonel?"

"All set." Mitchell gave a thumb up.

"Nice to have someone up here who actually knows how to fly." Racetrack began preflight checks. "I think Skulls just gets mesmerized by all the flashing lights."

"That'd explain Boomer." The stocky ECO laughed as he sat himself done at his usual station and went through his checklist. "Passenger bay secure, doors sealed, O2 flow and temperature control nominal."

"Copy that, pre-flight complete, all systems five by five," Racetrack confirmed.

"Who's Boomer?" Mitchell asked.

"One of our buddy Raptor riders," Skulls replied. "Cute little thing, like she came in a cotton lined box."

"She's a good flyer, not so bad on take offs, it's the landings where she kind of sucks." Racetrack shrugged. "We reckon she's got a lot on her mind."

"Racetrack is the best Raptor pilot in the fleet, sir; you're all in good hands."

"Great, no pressure then," She chuckled. "Theonpolis Air Control, Raptor three two niner, request clearance to launch."

"_Raptor three two niner, you are clear to depart, gods speed_."

"Copy that." Racetrack fired up the engines. "Okay ladies and gentlemen, show time!"

She throttled up and dragged back the pitch lever, the Raptor shuddering gently as the engines lifted her off the deck. Mitchell observed the various dials and readouts, watching as the previously jovial pilot focused like a machine on the task at hand, keeping the controls rock steady as she orientated her craft and nosed forward.

Mitchell took a look at the base as they lifted off, seeing the outlined ruins and broken stones as they pivoted, Racetrack pushing them into level flight and overflying the dig site.

"Command asked us to take a nice gentle flight into orbit." Racetrack said. "But as it looks like you guys are pilots would you like us to take it a little faster?"

"I'm up for that." Mitchell beamed.

"Ambassador?" Landry checked, Mulhern nodding briefly without much enthusiasm.

"Sure, why don't we see what you've got."

Say what you wanted about the State Department rep but she had spirit.

"A challenge," Racetrack grinned. "Okay, but if you lose your breakfast don't say I didn't warn you."

She pushed the throttle hard forward, the Raptor exploding through the cloud layer and climbing hard. For such an ugly flying brick it could move when it wanted to, the powerful engines burning on long spikes of fire that gradually diminished as the air grew thinner. Mitchell loved every second; he'd been to space plenty of times by now but the thrill of leaving a planet the old fashioned way never got old. Sure, beaming up was more efficient and practical, but something about watching the sky turn black, experiencing the transition instead of just materializing at the destination, it still stirred the soul.

This was how the old pioneers like Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin did it, streaking into the unknown on a tail of fire. For those who could appreciate it, it made one feel _alive!_ And the members of SG-1 were definitely ones who appreciated it.

"How you holding up Colonel?" Racetrack checked.

"Loving the view," Mitchell answered honestly. "It's been a while."

"It's going to get a lot better."

The shaking receded as they left the atmosphere, gravity and friction releasing its grip on them. The Raptor was still accelerating though more gently now and almost imperceptibly, racetrack matching velocity with the waiting fleet. Mitchell could already see them, indistinct reflections of light ahead of them.

"There they are." Racetrack pointed out unnecessarily. "Home."

The large canopy gave Mitchell a princely view as they made their way inward, crossing within a thousand meters of one of the escorts. The angular ship was easily twice as big as the _Prometheus_, probably bigger than the _Daedalus_ too and that was just an escorting Attackstar or Gunstar, something that was closer to the destroyer equivalent in the blue water navies on Earth. The fleet was well dispersed in a logical defensive posture, valuable units at the center, and escorts in a sphere around them. There was another speck in the distance on over-watch, something big but too far away to make out, probably the other capital ship.

There were at least eight warships of various designs that to the trained eye seemed to fulfill roles similar to ships back on earth. Cruiser and destroyer analogues and the two vessels, at over a kilometer long easily, that could not doubt be these 'Battlestars'. It was a lot of firepower for a supposed scientific expedition.

Interesting enough there were a number of civilian ships in orbit as well. One or two looked new as if fresh out of the yards but a few of the others looked older and worn as if they had seen a lot of use. To Mitchell it jived with a lot of what he had talked about with some of the Colonial military and civilians on the mission. Space travel was just accepted as another aspect of everyday life, something easily taken for granted and not given another thought. It spoke of a history of well-established civilian space travel. Mitchell could only hope that one day Earth would look at space travel like the Colonials did.

Their destination was easy to spot, a city of shaped steel hanging in suspension within the void. It was an absolute monster of a vessel, its plain design far more intimidating than the golden pyramids of the Goa'uld. Even if its technology was lacking its brutal efficiency and plain aesthetic spoke volumes of its purpose.

"Holy crap." Mitchell whistled. "_That's_ a big boat."

"She's the Grand Old Lady of the Fleet. One of the original Battlestars which set the standard for every ship since," Racetrack said with clear pride. "You should see her battle honors; the list is as long as your arm."

"Old soldier, huh?"

"You won't find a ship in our fleet that's seen more action." Racetrack nodded. "Sure, it was before my time, but the Commander served on her in the war. He can tell you more if you asked."

She swung in low over the hull, giving the passengers a closer look at the details on the hull including the bristling guns. Above them one of the fighter patrols made a low pass, Mitchell and Carter both craning their necks for a look at the fast jets.

"Now that's my next request." The Colonel pointed. "I want a ride in one of them."

"Put him in with Starbuck." Skulls laughed. "No offense Colonel but I've seen twenty year veterans unable to walk after a ride with Starbuck."

"That's the story going round the pilots' locker room anyway." Racetrack snorted.

The Raptor finished its run, Racetrack flipping them nose over tail in an elegant arc to line them up with the flight pod.

"_Galactica_ Control, Raptor three two niner, requesting landing clearance."

_"Raptor three two niner, proceed to port landing bay, pad one. Checkers green, call the ball."_ The distant but distinct voice of the ship's LSO, Captain Kelly, responded.

"I have the ball." Racetrack responded, lining up with the blinking lights marking the safe route in to the pod. Mitchell had never landed on a carrier but from talking to Navy pilots he knew the procedure back home was almost exactly the same.

Racetrack brought them into the huge landing bay without fuss, swinging around and touching down gently on the numbered one pad. With a solid click the Raptor secured itself magnetically to the landing pad which began to retract below the deck.

"And that's it." She let go of the controls as the engines wound down. "What do you think?"

"I love this ship." Mitchell grinned. "She looks like she could falcon punch a Star Destroyer."

"I'm going to assume that's a good thing."

"Very." Mitchell confirmed enthusiastically. "Hell of a ship, and that was a sweet ride. Thanks for the tour." He stretched out a hand.

"Any time, Colonel." She shook it with a wide smile. "See if Boomer will fly you back down, then you'll appreciate exactly how good I am."

"Can't wait to see the inside, we ready sir?" Mitchell turned to General Landry.

"All set." Landry undid his restraints as the Raptor taxied to a halt on the main deck. "Let's go say Hi."


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

**Port Flight Pod, Flight Deck**

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

The flight deck was in a state of controlled pandemonium as the deck hands frantically moved with focused purpose to make the flight deck look as immaculate as possible. With the arrival of the dignitaries from Earth, Chief Tyrol wanted his bay to look as spotless as possible. So for the past 24 hours the knuckle draggers of the port flight pod had been spending as much time as they could cleaning the bay as if they were preparing it for inspection from a visiting admiral. It's likely the Earthers wouldn't notice the difference but that wasn't the point. One did not host dignitaries with a dirty flight deck.

No. Sir.

"So, has anyone seen them yet, what are they like?" Specialist Cally asked her two fellow deckhands working alongside her. The trio, Cally, Prosna and Socinus had become something of an inseparable trio when they had been first assigned to the _Galactica_. Having gone through basic training then viper mechanical school and finally their first space flight training-cruise on the _Galactica,_ the trio of deckhands had learned to rely on one another. Unfortunately they had developed a bad reputation during that training flight with numerous practical jokes, one of which had turned very serious when one of the trio had tricked the ships fire alarm system into activating in the middle of the night. The officer of the deck for the night watch, also on her first cruise, had panicked and nearly ordered the entire flight pod vented in response. Thankfully a surprisingly sober Colonel Tigh had intervened and had dealt with the situation before it deteriorated any further. Later the three deckhand trainees were brought before the Commander still fully doused from head to toe fire retardant chemicals.

The three were punished for their reckless stunt with extra duty and letters of reprimand on their records. A serious black mark against them but thankfully hadn't been enough to cashier them from the Fleet. Such a black mark on their record could have affected their ability to find high quality employment in the civilian sector as service in the Fleet was looked on with a pride throughout most of the Colonies. Unfortunately upon completion of their training tour postings to prestigious assignments didn't happen. Word about their little stunt always seemed to reach the incoming commander who would promptly reject the assignment of what he or she saw they were getting a perceived trouble maker. So Commander Adama had taken the three crewmen back aboard the _Galactica_ determined to give them a second chance.

Prosna looked up from his inventory checklist, "Nope, but word is Jammer got a good look at them when he went down with the detail to help set up the air field"

Cally and half a dozen other deckhands within earshot stopped what they were doing and turned to Jammer with interest.

The young deckhand stopped piling crates of spare parts on a cart when he noticed everyone looking at him. 'What?"

"Come on Jammer, so what did you see?" Cally pressed.

"I saw people." Jammer said dismissively before returning to work.

"Come on Jammer!"

Jammer sighed, "Okay, okay. I saw depressingly _ordinary_ people. Happy now?"

The deckhands stopped what they were doing and gathered around Jammer. Clearly they were not going to let this go. Socinus walked up to his buddy and wrapped a friendly arm around his shoulders. "Buddy, pal…."Socinus gripped the shoulder hard. "Friends don't leave friends in the dark. You gotta do better than that!"

"They looked like soldiers, Socinus," Jammer responded. "A lot like our own."

Socinus removed his arm from around his buddy and crossed them over his chest. His face went from eager to almost sad. "So you mean they're not like the Earthers in the movie '_Ophiuchus Snake_'?"

The collective team of deckhands groaned at that. A few even face-palmed.

"What?" Socinus asked? "It's a classic!"

"I preferred the '_Homecoming Saga_' myself." Another deckhand named Tarn piped up. "I mean the first three anyway. The last two got very depressing."

"Which ones were those again?" Prosna asked.

"_Homecoming: the Memory of Earth; Homecoming: the Call of Earth; Homecoming: the Ships of Earth_." Tarn answered.

Jammer groaned, "I remember those. I didn't much like them. I'm not into all the touchy feely emo crap. Now,' _Homecoming: Kobolfall_' and '_Homecoming: Kobolborn_'. _Those_ were awesome!"

"Frakking depressing is what they are." Cally rolled her eyes. "I was kinda hoping for the _13__th__ Secret_, myself."

Everyone stopped to look at her.

"What?" Cally asked confused.

Prosna was smirking at her, "Cally, that's a kid's movie…from Aquaria."

"So!" Cally responded defiantly, "I liked it. So what if it's a kid's movie?"

"Nothing at all, Cally." Prosna smirked. "Even if '_Star Cluster Patrol_' did it better."

Cally scoffed, "At least they didn't die like redshirts in '_Star Cluster Patrol_'!"

Jammer snickered, "I'm just hoping no one shows them '_Cylons at the Lost Colony_'. I'd seriously doubt they appreciate it all that much."

"Are you kidding? That movie has enough Colonial wank to vaporize a Battlestar. You show that to Earth, we'll be at war in a week! At least, it's not as awful as _I Worship His Shadow at Earth_." Cally shuddered. "Eldritch abominations and all that."

"What are we talking about?" A new voice interjected itself into the conversation. The group of deckhands stopped and turned to see two pilots, Helo and Boomer, both of whom rated as 'cool' in their books. Even if most of them wanted to strangle Boomer for the numerous dents and rents she always left on her Raptor.

Cally answered, "The Earth people and which movies we wished had been on the mark."

"Still going with '_Cylons at the Lost Colony_', it's a great movie," Jammer stated.

Boomer rolled her eyes. "Gee, which part? The ignorant 13th Tribe being attacked by the toasters, or the mighty benevolent Colonial Fleet comes to save them…oh and then while they're at it, destroying the blasphemous local religion and setting them up on the _true_ path of oneness with the Gods? And then having them thank us for bringing them enlightenment and salvation? Gee…I'm sure that'll go down _real well_." Boomer replied sarcastically. "Personally I always loved '_Earth Runner_'."

Helo nodded his head sagely, "_Earth Runner_ was solid. Huge hit all across the Colonies. If we ever do a movie night down on the planet, maybe we could bring that. I'm sure they'll like it."

There were general mummers of agreement.

Helo frowned in thought as something occurred to him, "Say, Jammer, didn't Boomer and I ferry you and the rest of the detail down to Theonpolis to set up the air field?"

Jammer nodded.

"The Earthers were close by. Didn't you get a good look at them? Hear them talking?"

"That's what I was asking!" Cally stated as the conversation and the people turned back to Jammer.

Jammer looked around conspiratorially "Okay, I might have heard _something._"

The deckhands and the pilots leaned in eagerly; all of them hungry for information.

"I heard something about a major war going on right now on Earth. Big war involving a coalition of nations against some sort of super state called A…stan? No that's not it…I think it was 'Argastan' or something. Apparently it's been ongoing for a while now…lot of casualties."

Boomer frowned in disappointment. "You're saying Earth is divided and in the midst of a civil war?"

"That's what I heard," Jammer said.

Helo looked intrigued, "A coalition of nations. Sounds an awful lot like Canceron, doesn't it?"

"I'm kinda disappointed to hear about a civil war," Boomer answered. "I thought Earth was supposed to be some sort of paradise?"

Helo shrugged indifferently. "Guess not."

"You hear anything else?" Socinus asked.

"About Earth, not so much. But I did hear that during the assault, some of the Marines captured some of the Earth guys. Heard they roughed them up real good, too."

The group cursed amongst themselves at hearing that.

"Anything else?" Boomer asked.

"Yeah, I heard Captain Adama talking with Colonel Carthan. Earth really could have frakked us up down there if they wanted to, would have been a bloodbath."

"And Zeus warned the leaders of the twelve tribes that any return to Kobol would exact a price in blood." Boomer recited glumly.

Helo looked at her. "Stop that, its spooky, not to mention depressing." Helo turned back to Jammer. "Are you sure that's for real?"

Jammer shrugged, "That's the rumor going around the camp. We attacked and captured some of their people. Earth somehow sent a company of troops called 'Rangers'. Apparently, they're some super elite soldiers on their planet. Like our Knights of Kobol."

The deckhands and pilots looked skeptical.

Boomer was scowling now. "How did they send troops? We've been combing the entire system _and_ the planet. We haven't seen a hint of a ship."

Now Jammer looked as if he had been spooked but at the same time, like he wanted to talk, it was a weird combination to see on his face.

"What is it?" Cally asked, intrigued.

"Okay, I heard the Marines talking about it down on the planet. They said the Earth troops came through _something _in the Temple of Aurora."

The group leaned. "What was it?" Tarn asked.

"I don't know, but it had the Marines on the ground spooked. Everyone's all hush, hush about it."

The group traded skeptical glances but didn't respond.

Prosna looked about worried "Ah, guys you think maybe we should get back to work? That Raptor ferrying the Earth delegation will be here soon. And the Chief is on the warpath."

Boomer grinned, "Don't worry about the Chief. I have him well in hand."

_I bet you do,_ Cally thought darkly.

Speak of the Devil….

"What are you all doing standing around? Let's go, let's go people, move it! Prosna, finish up that inventory, Socinus, Tarn, the Viper at C13 hasn't been locked down, hurry and get it done. Cally, Jammer, get those component carts secured in the storage lockers. Now, people!" Chief Tyrol snapped to any crew man who moved too slowly for his liking.

"Moving, Chief!" the various crew men called back as they scattered like startled quail.

Considering the Old Girl's long service, Cally didn't think the bay had ever looked more spotless, even when she was fresh off out of the yards. But woe to the poor soul who tried to tell that to the Chief! The man was riding his people hard and he showed no signs of stopping now. Even with the Raptor inbound he was trying to get minor things done. When they had set off on this mission into the unknown, the last thing any of them expected was to host dignitaries from the mythical 13th Colony. While an honor guard, resplendent in their crisp and clean dress greys, set up, Colonel Tigh, also dressed in dress greys, briefed Captain Kelly. Captain Kelly ran off to finish whatever task he had been assigned, leaving Colonel Tigh with the ship's honor guard and looking entirely uncomfortable with the situation.

"Hey! Hold on there, Tyrol!"

Chief Tyrol paused to see who was calling for his attention. It was Boomer. "Not now, sir."

"No way, Chief! I gotta make sure that my Raptor is primed and ready to take the Earth people back down to Kobol. You know the gymbal on my Raptor's pretty bad."

Tyrol rolled his eyes. "It's bad because you keep having bad landings."

"Then check it and replace it!"

Tyrol began to walk through the bay, followed by Boomer. He patiently said as if speaking to a child, "I listen very closely to what each and every pilot has to say about their ship. Even the rookies."

"Oh now I'm a rookie," retorted Boomer. "You're not the one worrying about getting foreign emissaries back home in one piece in fifty tons of Raptor—"

"And this isn't the time because those emissaries are coming at any moment and rookie landings just brighten my frakking day—" Tyrol paused to open the hatch to one of the bay's tool rooms and stepped over the threshold. Boomer hopped in after him. Cally, seeing this, rolled her eyes. _Frakking the division officer…that's just wrong_, she thought.

The small walk-in storage locker was crammed full of tools. The hatch swung shut behind Boomer.

"—and I'm frakking busy!" finished Tyrol.

"—and I'm frakking busy," echoed Boomer with a smile.

They stopped and stared at each other, toe to toe. After a moment, they fell into each other's arms. Deep passionate kisses of two forbidden lovers who had to grab every moment they could. After a minute, Tyrol pulled away to take a much needed breath.

Boomer took advantage of the pause to say, "Now that we're away from the nuggets and knuckle-draggers, tell me the truth: what do you think of the Earth people, really?"

Tyrol threw her a quizzical look. "Here we are, Sharon, sucking face and you're thinking about the Thirteenth Tribe?"

Boomer laughed. "You know what I mean." Her head descended in a swinging inquiring way. "So…?"

"They're just another bunch of people," Tyrol said with a frown.

"But…?" prodded Boomer.

He sighed. "Well, you know my father is a priest and my mother's an oracle so the Thirteenth Colony and Tribe were a big deal to them. A very big frakking deal. They were always trying to trace the Thirteenth Tribe's route to Earth. The Temple of Five, the Eye of Jupiter, the Great Lion watching the Caravan of the Heavens, you name it." Tyrol shrugged. "Me, they're just people like you and me."

Boomer nodded slowly and pensively.

A voice came over the intercom system: _"Attention all hands, Raptor two three niner touching down, port flight pod. Honor Guard, stand ready to receive dignitaries."_

"Well, Sharon, we have work to do."

"Yes, Chief." Boomer stole a quick kiss from Tyrol just as he pushed the hatch door open. He hopped out. Boomer, however, remained behind, taking a moment to think.

Tigh grumbled, "Well let's get this bullfrak pony show on the road." He turned to Chief Tyrol. "Get your men into position."

Tyrol nodded, "Yes sir." Tyrol turned to his deck gang. "Alright people, you heard the Colonel! Everyone get in formation. Dress and cover!"

Like a well-oiled machine, the deckhands formed into ranks.

The Raptor was pulled into the maintenance bay and at once a trolley backed up into the Raptor and locked into it. The trolley then pulled the Raptor to the reception area. When the Raptor stopped Colonel Tigh called them all to attention.

"Group, Atteh-enshun!"

The deckhands and the Honor Guard snapped to attention.

The side door of the Raptor opened slowly and the first person to come out was Captain Adama, who turned to help a woman in civilian clothes, who nodded her thanks to the Captain after her feet hit the deck. The assembled deck crew was slightly disappointed, hoping for something more exotic or alien. Next out were three people wearing obvious military uniforms with what looked to be some medals or awards on their chests. The dress uniforms looked odd to them except for the navy blue color—it looked civilian with the ties and light blue shirts beneath the formal jackets, yet they were unmistakably military. The only one who appeared different was a tall bald man dressed in a heavy caped robe and had a gold emblem apparently tattooed on his forehead. Each looked about eagerly but professionally.

Colonel Tigh stepped forward, came to attention and saluted. General Landry came to attention and returned the salute with a serious and professional demeanor. Captain Adama did the introductions.

"Ambassador Mulhern, General Landry, please allow me to introduce Colonel Saul Tigh, Executive Officer of the Battlestar _Galactica_. Colonel, this is Ambassador Kathryn Mulhern of the United States and Major General Hank Landry of the United States Air Force."

For once in his life, it looked as if Saul Tigh might have had some wonder in his eyes as his mind processed the fact that he was actually meeting people from Earth. Tigh recovered quickly though and returned to his normal, though sober, state.

"Ambassador, General, on behalf of Commander Adama, welcome aboard. Commander Adama apologizes that he isn't here to greet you personally but he was called away to attend to an operational matter. I'll be escorting you to one of our conference rooms to meet him."

Mulhern smiled one of her perfect diplomatic smiles. "Thank you for welcoming us, Colonel. We look forward to getting to know the Twelve Colonies better and furthering relations between our peoples."

"Thank you, Ambassador. If you'll follow me."

"Of course."

As Lee and Colonel Tigh led them from the port flight pod to where the Commander was waiting, SG-1, General Landry and Ambassador Mulhern took time to view their surroundings. The interior of the _Galactica_ felt both alien and familiar. Its trapezoid corridors seemed to follow no straightforward logic as they branched at odd angles and often had steps. Unlike ships of Earth's blue water navies or even its fledgling space fleet, both of which tended to follow a more straightforward internal layouts, the _Galactica_ just felt different.

The interior was bright yet had the feel of a battleship or carrier back home, something which the military members found comforting. Further emphasizing of this was the myriad of differing uniforms of the _Galactica_ crew as they passed by. All of them alien yet in a fundamental way, familiar.

Captain Adama took them along another turn in the winding and confusing maze of corridors. By this point everyone quietly admitted they were hopelessly lost, which may have been the point of the odd angles and turns in the ships internal layout; to confuse enemy boarders. Despite the slightly alien feel of the personnel's uniforms, the slanting walls, vertical light tubes, the lack of right angles and the artificial gravity, the technology seemed to be on par with Earth-bound military forces. In several areas it even seemed slightly primitive with the whirring hum of the air recycling tanks at intervals in the corridors, the corded phones, lack of computer networking and computers that…well…barely even deserved the name.

Yet the sheer engineering capacity to build a ship like this, even a dozen or more and to sustain them for long periods of time again spoke of a society that was no stranger to space travel and had the military and industrial might to support a large space going force. This could be very good news for Earth…or very bad news for Earth if the Colonials ever turned hostile. But then that was Ambassador Mulhern's job, to make sure that didn't happen.

The party finally came to what appeared to be an air locked door guarded by a Marine in dress uniform. The Marine smartly opened the door and held it open as the group was ushered in to a large room. The room was obviously important, the walls lined with what looked to be flat panel monitors. There was a large table, covered in cloth set in the middle of the room to facilitate negotiations. Upon entering the delegation saw Commander Adama, as well as other Colonial officers, standing and waiting. A momentary and somewhat uncomfortable silence took hold as both groups were hesitant to be the first to act, as if fearful of making a mistake. Finally, Commander Adama stepped forward, an uncharacteristic grin upon his face.

Adama came forward and extended his hand to each member of the Earth delegation in turn. "Ambassador Mulhern. General Landry. Colonel Carter. Colonel Mitchell. Teal'c. On behalf of the Armed Forces of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, I would like to welcome you aboard the _Galactica_."

Ambassador Mulhern smiled. "It's a pleasure to be here, Commander Adama."

Adama motioned to their seats and each side sat down. The room was set up with one main table and enough seats on each side. On the Colonial side it had Adama at the head with Colonel Tigh on his right and his son on his left. For the Earth Delegation it had General Landry sitting on the far right, next to him sat Ambassador Mulhern. And sitting on her opposite side were Colonel Carter, Colonel Mitchell and Teal'c respectively.

Adama could sense the hesitation from his guests. He supposed he could understand it. The circumstances of First Contact was like a dark cloud hanging over this meeting, marring what should have been a joyous reunion between the Twelve Colonies and their long lost siblings. But Earth seemed determined to put the issue behind them as evidenced by them sending a high level diplomat and flag officer to the _Galactica_.

"Before we begin, I'd like to inquire about the welfare of your three personnel. Are they doing well?"

Mulhern and General Landry shared a brief look. "They're doing fine and are expected to make a full recovery," Landry answered.

Adama nodded. "That's good. I'd like to state for the record that the Marines in question have been arrested and have been charged under the Articles of War. They're in confinement now and will be prosecuted once we return to the Colonies."

"What kind of sentence does that carry?" Colonel Carter asked.

Tigh and Adama shared a look and it was the bald Colonel who answered. "Depending on their service record; commendations or previous disciplinary actions; at minimal they're looking at a dishonorable discharge. Up to fifteen years hard labor on Sagittaron or Proteus, worst case."

"Pretty harsh," Colonel Mitchell commented.

Tigh nodded to the younger Colonel, "That's how we do it in the Fleet."

Ambassador Mulhern smiled tightly. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly become charged and she could feel an air of expectation. She knew just how to maneuver the talks back to more positive settings. "In the spirit of cooperation, we are grateful to learn that justice will be served. But now is the time to move beyond this unfortunate situation."

Adama nodded in acceptance. "I agree. But before we begin there is an ongoing situation that we find ourselves in. Part of the reason why I wasn't able to greet when you arrived aboard the _Galactica_. It's a rather serious situation that has grave consequences for all concerned here. Especially Earth."

Ambassador Mulhern, General Landry and the members of SG-1 exchanged concerned glances before General Landry straightened in his seat. "What grave concerns would those be?"

Adama truly felt out of his depth handling these delicate negotiations. He wasn't a trained diplomat and neither the Fleet nor the government ever thought to send one along. Now Adama was the man on the spot and he had to break the bad news.

"There is no easy way to say this, so I'll just lay it out straight. This fleet is currently being shadowed by an enemy of the Twelve Colonies. They're known as the Cylons." Out of the corner of his eyes, Adama could see his son stiffen and shoot him a startled look. He was now due for another conversation he was going to have.

"Cylons?" Mitchell asked.

Adama took a deep breath, "They're a race of sentient robots. Fifty years ago we fought a war…"

**Rocky Ridge**

**Kobol**

A modified Humvee rumbled, its tires thumping, rising and falling on the rockiness of the High Road leading from Olympus through the Gates of Hera to Theonpolis. The Humvee was brought through the stargate from Earth in parts and reassembled. The vehicle was followed by a line of three FREDs. Field Remote Expeditionary Devices were used as cargo carriers in lieu of MALPs. Five SGC soldiers walked alongside the FREDs while more rode in the Humvee. Civilians also walked beside the FREDs, mostly scientists from Earth. The others were cargo personnel hired from among the Colonials. Their responsibility was the crates that the FREDs were carrying. These contained items that could be removed from Olympus. They would be divided between the Earthers and the Colonials for analysis back home.

In the Humvee, Dr. Cyrus raised his eyes up to the tree branches obscuring his view of the Cambunian Mountains surrounding them. A tire fell hard into a hole in the path, causing the Colonial to grunt in discomfort.

"If only we could bring a hover-mobile from Caprica," complained Anthem. "Or at least use a Raptor."

The Humvee driver in the seat in front of him chuckled. The commanding officers of the SGC and the _Galactica_ had agreed to not use flying vehicles like Raptors due to the risks posed to the valuable remains of the Ancient city-ship. It wasn't that they didn't quite trust each other, but it was there beneath the currents. "This is a vacation for us, Doctor. Be glad we're not in Afghanistan. Hot as hell in the day, cold as a witch's tits at night. If the local province isn't secure, we'd be watching out for terrorists and insurgents. Even if it was secure, you'd still be watching your back."

"This…Afghanistan? Is it one of your provinces on Earth, Menard?"

The driver, Army Lieutenant Jim Menard of SG-11, laughed hard. There was no indication whether he noticed Anthem's refusal to use his military rank. "No way, Doc! The United States is not an empire, though some idiots would say differently. A-stan is a shit-hole of a country full of tribes who kill over the smallest crimes against their religion, force women to cover themselves up completely and have made rape within marriage legal. If it wasn't for the mountains and steep river valleys all over the country, it'd be a desert."

In the seat beside Lt. Menard, Colonel Martin Edwards grunted his agreement and expressionlessly looked over his shoulder at the Colonial civilian. He was the commander of SG-11. He didn't much like the idea of a foreign civilian riding in his Humvee even if it's part of a diplomatic effort. In the seat beside Anthem, Lieutenant Carl Grogan was looking bored.

Anthem said, "Sounds like the Borellian Waste on Canceron." He read between the lines in Menard's answer. "So Earth has different countries and you still have wars between them?"

Menard steered the wheel as he negotiated a way around a large boulder before answering Anthem. "Of course. Not nearly as much anymore but it's human nature. Much as we hate to admit it, if we don't have enemies, we'd create one in our midst and have civil wars." The driver glanced at the archaeologist in the rearview mirror. "Now that we're out in the galaxy, Earth will unite to keep itself safe from the dangers of the galaxy."

"I hope so," said Anthem neutrally. In his mind, he thought that Earth's internecine warfare explained why the Thirteenth Colony was not apparently more advanced than the Twelve Colonies despite the two thousand years head-start it had on his people.

"Don't tell me that it's all sweetness and roses at your planets," dug the driver.

The Colonial hesitated as he thought of how to answer that. "Well, what you said is true, Lieutenant. We have pirates and terrorists, sometimes even rebels. Not every world in the Colonies is united. For example, Canceron has 88 nation-states united under a world congress. Even then, Borellia is not part of the Canceron Congress."

Lt. Grogan's interest piqued. "So Borellia's been giving you as much of a headache as A-stan has for us?"

"The Borellian Nomen…they are a fiercely independent warrior culture, if that's what you mean, Grogan. We leave them alone. Mostly. Years ago, when President Tevet wanted to send in the army over some incident, Admiral Nagala, who was a commander at the time, said, 'Send the troops in? Are you mad? These are the people who stopped Cylons in their tracks with knives and bolas. I'm not that crazy.'"

Lt. Menard chuckled. "This Nagala certainly has balls, I'll give you that."

Grogan wanted to satisfy his curiosity if only to distract from his boredom. "What's the Twelve Colonies like? I mean, what are the planets like, how many people there are."

Anthem shrugged. "The Twelve Colonies are complex. You'd have to visit to know what they're like. Each is beautiful in its own right. The farms of Aerilon, the beaches of Canceron, the plains of Leonis, the jungles of Scorpia, the pastures of Tauron, the harbors of Picon, the cities of Caprica, the cold oceans of Aquaria, the courthouses of Libris, the forests of Virgon and the temples of Gemenon. There's a lot to do in the Colonies. You could hang-glide on Scorpia, gamble in the casinos and chanceries of Leonis and Canceron, ski on the mountains of Picon and Leonis, play or watch the Pyramid sport anywhere. For me, it's swimming with the Alanc, tattooed island folk of Picon during the summer. The ideal vacation for me is skiing and enjoying the sunny beaches at the same time on Leonis, eating the best Tauron steak and drinking the best Leonis wine on the same beaches during the Hedon Film Festival. Sometimes I like to visit Virgon. You see, not only are the seas blue but the plant life have oils that evaporate in the sunlight and cast a bluish tinge in the air. There's a lot of anthracene, which when it's exposed to UV light, causes the ground to look blue. That's why Virgon is called the Blue Colony." He sighed nostalgically.

The archaeologist now had the full attention of the Earth men in the Humvee.

"Anyway, if I can't afford those vacations, there's always the annual Festivus where you wear masks, drink and frak all you want. Costumes are optional." Anthem winked. "There's also the nightlife of Caprica's cities, and Caprica Beach—it rarely snows. That, and my work at the Delphi and Caprica universities, is why my home is the apartment I own in Caprica City." He smiled as he added, "My home-world is Caprica even if my birth-world is Tauron. If you hate flowers, Tauron is for you—it has no flowers except in the gardens of the rich and eccentric."

Edwards said, "You have twelve colonies. So your people live on twelve planets in different star systems?"

"Actually, they're all in a single system with four stars, the Cyrannus Cluster."

Confusion was the unanimous reaction. "How's that work?" wondered Colonel Edwards.

Anthem shrugged. "As far as we know, Cyrannus is unique in the galaxy. It is two binaries that orbit a common barycenter. In Helios Alpha, Caprica and Gemenon orbit a common barycenter while they orbit the Alpha sun—Gemenon is like a huge moon in the Caprican sky and when Caprica happens to be away from the sun during the winter, it snows in Caprica City. In Helios Delta, Aerilon and Canceron are in two of the Libration points of the gas giant Hestia—L4 and L5 to be exact. Other than that, the planetary system makeup is completely normal in Cyrannus except there are more habitable planets in the habitable zones of each of the four stars."

Menard was impressed. "I know that our scientists would love to take a look at your star system. Definitely different."

"What about the Earth Star System?"

Grogan corrected Anthem. "The Solar System. It's an ordinary star system with one sun. Earth is the third planet out. No other habitable rock in the system, though the fourth planet, Mars, is in the habitable zone and if we decide to terraform it, it will be centuries before we could go outside without spacesuits."

"Sounds like Pallas in Helios Beta," remarked Anthem. Nodding, he added, "That fits the Sacred Scrolls. In it, Pythia described Earth as a shining planet that has a single yellow star and moon. There's another verse describing how when the Thirteenth Tribe landed on Earth, they looked up into the heavens and they saw their twelve brothers. What are your constellations like?"

Edwards pursed his lips. He did not think much of the Colonial mythology and their insistence on Earthers being this so-called Thirteenth Tribe. Furthermore, he couldn't allow himself to fully trust Dr. Cyrus. Something about his silent refusal to verbally recognize their military ranks rubbed him the wrong way. He mentally shrugged as he doubted whether the Colonials could use the information to find the location of Earth. The galaxy is a big place, after all. "There are twelve main constellations based on the zodiac."

"Pisces, Cancer, Aquarius, Scorpio and the rest?" excitedly asked Anthem.

Edwards shrugged uneasily. "Yeah."

That meant the Sacred Scrolls matched the revelations revealed by Athena in Olympus. Anthem looked out the window in happy thought. However, Colonel Edwards wasn't finished with him. "What about the people? How many are there?"

"Well, there are almost 30 billion people with Canceron having the most people at 6.7 billion. Caprica is the second most populous at almost 5 billion. The settlements and outposts outside the Colonies themselves, I think, have a total of 1 point 5 million people."

Colonel Edwards and Lt. Menard whistled. "That's a lot of people," said the Colonel quietly. If the Twelve Colonies' infrastructure was on par with that of Earth, it meant a hell lot of resources and wealth that the Colonials could throw around. With an advanced space program already well established, complete with FTL technology and commonplace civilian shipping if the fleet in orbit was anything to judge by, it could mean trouble for the neighborhood. And now they knew about the stargate and had potential access to its network….

"Yes, sir," agreed Menard. "Earth has almost 7 billion people."

Anthem nodded. Though the Thirteenth Colony had a two thousand years head-start over the other Colonies, there could only be so many people that one planet could support. However, he noticed that these men said nothing about whether Earth has off-world settlements or outposts. He mentally shrugged. That information would come later with the diplomats and traders. He looked down at Lt. Grogan's shoulder patch. "SG-11. That means anything?"

Edwards proudly said, "Stargate Team 11. All the guys you see here are part of SG-11." He pointed outside at Lt. Peter Woeste, Captain John Rathbone, Specialist Owen Paris and Dr. Charles DeSoto walking outside alongside the FREDs, some casually carrying their FN 90 PDW submachine guns while Paris carried an M-4. He chuckled wryly. "We got a raw deal. If only you knew our history." He smirked with pride. "Like Lt. Grogan here." The named lieutenant lazily waved a hand at Anthem from his seat beside him. "He's been shot many times and has always survived when he should have died. Always."

As Grogan chuckled ruefully, Menard swerved the steering wheel to avoid a short standing stone that had a faded carving on its face. "What's that?"

Anthem looked at the stone for a while as they passed it. "A grave marker. When the war ravaged Kobol, the people had a choice: to board the Great Ship or take the High Road through the Rocky Ridge. Those who didn't board the Galleon took the road to the Tomb of Athena at the Gates of Hera. " He leaned forward to point down the path in front of the convoy. "At the end of this road, we'll come out of the trees into a field. That's the Galleon Meadow, where the Great Ship took my ancestors to the Twelve Colonies. Many of the people who chose the High Road died along the way."

Menard slowed down as he took a closer look out his window at another gravestone. "Macabre."

Dirt and rocks fountained in an explosion in front of the Humvee. The slowing down to see the gravestone had saved their lives and the driver slammed down on the brake, pitching Anthem forward to smash into the back of the driver's seat. But the braking kept the Humvee from plunging into the sudden crater.

Gunfire erupted from the trees, causing several soldiers to topple over. Everyone else dove for the ground or for cover behind the FREDs. A couple of civilians who had no experience with this kind of situation froze. They screamed with shock and pain as bullets ripped into arms and legs as they fell, finally joining their compatriots on the ground.

"Contact! "Frak!" "Fuck!" "Get back!" "Get back! Get back!" "Take cover!"

A soldier shook and fell as bullets ripped into him. Only his Kevlar protection saved him.

Anthem crouched down on the Humvee's floor, nursing his jaw which was nearly knocked off when he smashed into the driver's seat. He felt as if someone had shaken his head hard. He couldn't focus his eyes on anything with all the noises and the screams distracting him. His ears rang.

Anthem shouted, "What the frak?!"

Or at least he tried to say it. He couldn't hear himself over the ringing in his ears. He jabbed a finger into each ear and rubbed some of the ringing out.

Carl Grogan was also crouching on the floor beside Anthem. He visibly shook himself from the confusion and disorientation caused by the land mine and the initial gunfire. He looked over the back of the front seat and saw that Colonel Edwards had already jumped out of the Humvee. He ducked down as bullets shattered the windows. Both he and Anthem cringed and sheltered their heads as bits of glass flew everywhere.

"Doctor. Doctor!" Grogan slapped Anthem's shoulder hard enough to get his attention. "Dr. Cyrus, no matter what happens, stay behind me."

Dazed, Anthem stared at Grogan.

"Do you understand me, Doctor?"

Anthem nodded and continued to stare at Grogan's soft face as the lieutenant squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. The Lieutenant's lips drew in a flat line as he nodded in determination. He rose up just enough to shoot out a shattered window.

The Colonial peeked between the front seats and looked at the rear-view mirror and the side-view mirrors while staying below the windows. He could see reflected in them that Earth soldiers were crouch-running, pulling civilians to cover, sighting over their guns and rifles at the source of the gunfire, weaving their weapons back and forth, and sending off bursts of gunfire into the foliage beside the path.

He glanced down at Grogan's squatting back.

These strangers from another world, who by rights had no reason to trust them or even like them, thanks to the recent near-battle between the Colonials and Earthers, were willing to lay down their lives to protect Anthem and his people. That touched him in a way he didn't think it would.

"Cack," swore Anthem.

Lt. Woeste ducked behind a crate in the FRED immediately behind the Humvee. A civilian man was lying on the ground, groaning and staring at a bleeding wound in his arm in shock. Woeste swung his FN 90 PDW rifle around and let it speak his anger into the trees by the road. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a soldier crouch-ran to his side. He relaxed only a bit when he saw it was his teammate, Dr. Charles DeSoto. DeSoto looked around as he held his own handgun in one hand and an emergency medkit in the other hand. Satisfied that no one was shooting in his direction, he opened the medkit and checked the wound on the civilian man. He grunted in exasperation when he saw that it was just a scratch from a bullet grazing his arm. Inexperienced people tend to think bleeding bullet scratches were terrible wounds until they knew better. He quickly swabbed it with medical alcohol and slapped a large bandage on it.

A bullet whizzed close by, causing Dr. DeSoto's pants to ruffle. Looking down, he saw that a hole had been torn through a loose fold of the pants. He frowned grimly at it and hunkered down behind Woeste as he took his handgun out again and shot back into the trees.

Eventually, Woeste and DeSoto could see men wearing black head masks approaching through the trees. Grogan could see them, too. The lieutenant shot a masked man who fell from cover. But he only groaned and covered his right shoulder.

Colonel Edwards, crouched at the end of the Humvee took a moment to regard the now clearly visible enemy in his line of sight. The only enemy he could see was engaging them from a slightly elevated bank of dirt to the right side of the road. There was no enemy engaging from the other side of the road, nor advancing on them from that side. Had there been, this engagement likely would have been over by now. That implies that the attackers had no real military training. Colonel Edwards took a moment to study the enemy. They wore black tactical vests and black ski masks, clearly not marking them as Earth personnel. Which meant they had to be clearly Colonial. Edwards frowned as he took stock of several Colonials, under _his_ care, writhing in pain from obvious gunshot wounds. What was this? A black op gone bad? An internal squabble the Colonials hadn't _deemed_ to mention? Or was this the work of a third group?

A round bounced off the hull of the Humvee, forcing Edward to crouch lower. Finding out what was going on could wait, he had to neutralize the enemy that was attacking him and the people he was responsible for, both Earth and Colonial. And he had to do that _right the hell now!_

Edwards raised himself up only slightly to peer over the curved rear of the Humvee to note the enemies' position in relation to his own team. There were at least ten that he could see; some firing from the hip, others just pouring a large amount of gunfire ineffectively in the general direction of anything that moved. None of them seemed to be utilizing cover or concealment at all and were slowly advancing on their position. And all of them were about fifty to seventy meters out; well inside the SG team's effective range.

Those facts plus the lack of a flanking element or a setup crossfire lead to one inescapable conclusion in Edwards's mind. He was dealing with untrained amateurs. Well...if they were stupid enough to break from concealment this close to them, he was smart enough to take advantage of it.

At the front of the Humvee hunkered down were Lt. Grogan and Lt. Menard. Five meters back taking cover at either end of the FRED were Lt. Woeste and Dr. DeSoto, with DeSoto desperately trying to keep a panicked Colonial down on the ground. And further back and pinned down in a small ditch were Captain Rathbone and Specialist Paris with a group of Colonials scared of out of their minds.

It only took a moment for Colonel Edwards to formulate his plan.

Edwards clicked his radio "Rathbone, Paris, what's your status?"

The voice that answered was Specialist Paris. "_Sir, Captain Rathbone took three in the chest and one to his left bicep. Those new ceramic plates stopped them from penetrating, but he's probably got a cracked rib at least. I'm more worried about the arm wound."_

Rathbone was quick to add his own assessment. "_I can still fight Colonel. I'm good to go!"_

"All right people, this is how we're gonna play this. Menard, Woeste; fresh magazines now! Provide suppressive fire, do what you can to keep those bastards pinned in place! Grogan, you and me steady fire. Shoot to kill and make every shot count. Rathbone, Paris, as soon as we start lighting the bastards up, break from your position. Tree line fifty meters, flank from the right, Radio me as soon as you're in position. I'll give you the signal then you move in and mow 'em down while we keep 'em pinned in place. Doc, you stay put and keep that Colonial from doing something stupid."

The Colonel's orders were carried out instantly as the entire team switched out their current magazines for fresh ones.

"Everyone green?" Edwards asked. He got his answer as the team answered in the affirmative for him.

"Light 'em up!" Colonel Edwards ordered tersely.

At once, Menard and Woeste popped up from behind cover and began firing a steady stream at their attackers. Their attackers seemed to pause at the unexpected level of gunfire and only reacted and dived for what cover they could find when one of their number was riddled with lead. Edwards and Grogan then popped up and sighted an attacker each and fired controlled three round bursts that dropped their targets. They switched to targets of opportunity and began laying down a steady stream of fire.

At the same time, Paris and Rathbone sprang to their feet and broke for the concealment of the tree line. Two enemy attackers saw them out of the corner of their eyes, turned in their direction. Untrained they may be but the two ambushers were not stupid and were quick to realize getting attacked from two angles was not something they wanted to deal with. One of their numbers cried out a warning but was suddenly silenced by a 6.8 mm NATO full metal jacket round through his temple by Colonel Edwards' FN P90. However, the man had lived long enough to get out a warning and three of his comrades turned in the direction of the flanking element and began spraying rounds wildly in Edwards' direction.

A big burly man rose up from the prone position and began firing for all he was worth at the Humvee. Rounds punched through the thin material of the hood and hit the engine block underneath.

Grogan and Menard cursed as they were forced to cease fire and duck into cover, but then Grogan popped right back up and fired a perfect three round burst that caught the man's center mass. The man fell back onto his back with limbs flaying but just as Grogan turned toward his next target, he was amazed to see the guy get right back up and then move to take cover behind a convenient tree before Grogan could finish him off. Clearly he had a vest on, unlike his unluckier compatriots.

They could hear a male voice shout from the vested man: "Frak it! NOW!"

Over a dozen small black cylinders fell in arcs from behind the trees and shrubbery, bouncing on the ground all around the soldiers and civilians.

DeSoto and Woeste exchanged a widened glance, recognizing the objects.

Colonel Edwards had also recognized them. His voice instantly carried all over the area, "Grenades!"

A blinding flash of light overwhelmed the entire area and deafening bangs came in quick succession as the grenades exploded. With over a dozen blanketing the area it was complete overkill and all resistance between the Humvee and the FRED ceased at once.

Anthem had been watching all this happening from the Humvee as he sheltered behind its metal doors. White light erased everything from in his sight. He blinked and squeezed his eyes but all he could see was painful white. He jammed his hands into his eyes, trying to rub the blindness out. He also couldn't hear anything and seemed unable to keep his balance at all as if he was very drunk or as if he had recently spun himself very fast and stopped suddenly. He had to put his head down on the seat beside Grogan who was also as disoriented.

Very dimly, he was aware of a hand roughly grabbing his arm and yanking him out of the Humvee. The absolute silence eventually gave way to a whistling in his ears and the intense white light faded from his eyes, though purple spots seemed to dance in his sight. From what he could see through the spots, the cargo handlers, scientists and the Earth soldiers gathered in one spot, surrounded by men wearing what appeared to be black skiing masks that left the eyes free. Some were on their knees while others were lying on the ground, wounded or still dazed from the flash-bang attack. Several appeared burned from being too close to a flashbang or two.

Anthem counted the men wearing the SG-11 uniform. There were only four left alive, and Edwards was lying on the ground, bleeding out of a wound. Clearly, when the flashbangs exploded, the attackers rushed the soldiers, shooting them down.

A loudspeaker squawked. "EVERYBODY GET ON THE GROUND AND KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"

The soldiers and civilians hesitated. The masked men brought out what appeared to be a bazooka and aimed it straight at the crates in one of the FREDs.

"DO IT NOW, MOTHERFRAKKERS!"

One of the civilian handlers immediately raised his arms. The other civilians looked at him and soon followed suit. The remaining four soldiers exchanged a quick communicative look and lowered their guns. They didn't want to risk civilian casualties even if they made stupid decisions.

One of the masked men came out of the trees. Now that the Earthers could see his body, they saw that it was actually a woman. She aimed a gun straight at the captured people. "Get on the ground. Now."

Anthem and the others immediately obeyed, arms raised. He looked at the first civilian who raised his arms and saw it was that guy he saw at Olympus. What was his name? His grasping mind found the answer.

Leoben Conoy.

It still bothered him that Leoben looked so much like the guy he'd killed on Scorpia years ago, Korben Cawdor. Practically twins.

The masked woman swung her gun around at the civilian scientists and handlers. "Help us load these crates into the car."

The civilians looked at each other. They cautiously got up from the ground and began to take the crates from the first FRED into the vacated Humvee. Another masked man got into the driver's seat and familiarized himself with the vehicle's operation. Yet another man raised his gun and shouted, "We are the Sagittaron Freedom Movement, and we are taking these in the name of the Revolution!"

A taller masked man gave him a sharp look. He got only a shrug and a short laugh in response. He muttered under his breath, "Frak."

The masked woman rolled her eyes.

Leoben stumbled and dropped a crate. The woman was furious and stalked over to him. She punched him. "Be frakking careful!"

Leoben looked up at the woman and smirked. "Trying to make me your bitch?"

The other civilians were amazed at Leoben's audacity. He was the first to surrender and now he was being defiant?

The woman looked even more furious. She leaned down to Leoben's face and whispered, "When you download, tell them to come now. It's time, my brother."

The blond man blinked up at her. He laughed and spat in her masked face. "Make me!"

The woman stood up in a feigned towering rage and whipped her gun across Leoben's face. He toppled over to the ground. She then shot him point-blank in the head.

Shocked silence reigned as soon as the gunshot faded.

"My God, you are one fucking crazy bitch!" said Woeste. He reached for his rifle on the ground. The woman immediately stepped forward and shot the Earth man in the face. Then she shot DeSoto point-blank for good measure.

"Anyone else?"

Heads all around her shook.

"Good."

The taller masked man seemed to shake himself out of his own shock and aimed his gun at Anthem who was helping load the crates into the Humvee. "You. Close the doors. I want them secure, got it?"

The archaeologist nodded. He did not show fear. Only contempt. Tomb-robbers. They came to Kobol and thought they found tomb raiders on the planet, but there were actually raiders among their own people. The other masked people frisked everyone else and took out walkie-talkies and smashed them on the ground with their boots or guns.

Once the Humvee was secured, the engine revved despite its damage. The ambushers got onto the Humvee, while keeping their guns trained on the prisoners. The vehicle drove around the crater created by the mine they had planted before. Soon, it disappeared down the road.

Now left alone, Lt. Grogan, the only surviving intact member of SG-11 as far as he knew, glanced down at Colonel Edwards who was unconscious from his wound. He rushed over to one of the three FREDs and accessed its radio components. The attackers had either forgotten about that or were thankfully ignorant of it. He hurried to make a report to his superiors.

Paris and Rathbone came out of the forest, looking around and appearing chagrined. Grogan was relieved that he wasn't the only intact survivor. When the flashbangs and the following rush by the attackers came, there was little they could do.

But a reckoning would be sure to come.

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

Anastasia Dualla pressed her headphone to her ear so she could hear more clearly. As the chief communications officer, she was almost always the first to hear reports and news. So her position required a lot of vigilance on her part and a lot of trust on her commanders' part, not only Adama but also the other ship commanders in the fleet. In these days of prohibition against networking between crafts of the Colonial Fleet, communication consoles were the only main conduit of cooperation between ships.

This particular report coming over the ether was troubling. Dee decided that this communique was important enough to warrant her commanders' attention. She typed a command that would make the message repeat itself so that the computer could record it stenographically. Once finished, she pressed a button that would print out the recorded message. When the printer stopped clicking, she tore out the piece of paper, nodded at a fellow officer to temporarily take her post while she went to Colonel Tigh with the printout.

Tigh was going over duty rosters. He had never liked being in command, even briefly. Being the XO gave him the pleasure to put the men and women of the _Galactica_ in their places, but having the conn gave him the barest taste of what being a battlestar commander entailed. He did not like it at all.

Dee stepped up to him and handed him the printout.

"Sir."

Tigh absent-mindedly took the printout and read it. His eyes widened.

"Frak me." Tigh looked up at Dee. "Terrorists way out here?"

Dualla decided that the Colonel was being rhetorical. "Yes, sir."

"Get me Kobol Air Control."

"Yes, sir." With that, Dee left to do her job.

Tigh shook his head slowly confoundedly. "…what the frak is going on down there?"

As soon as Dee gave him the go ahead, Tigh grabbed the phone and activated the private intercom. "Now what the frak is going on down there?" he repeated.

"_Galactica Actual, we can confirm that members of the Sagittaron Freedom Movement are on planet. Repeat, the Sagittaron Freedom Movement is on planet. We are alerting all other ground controls planetside."_

"Ground Control, are all ships accounted for?"

"_Affirmative, Galactica. Base is going into lockdown. Be advised we are locking down air traffic. Recommend you intercept any ship making orbit now. They may be attempting escape."_

Tigh grunted into the phone and then slammed the phone into its holder. He shouted, "Dee, order all shuttles to dock at the nearest ships and stay there until further notice."

A rising flurry of noise signaled the CIC's rush to accommodate this latest development. Tigh watched the DRADIS screen closely as several labeled dots disappeared as they complied with his order.

Once more, he muttered to himself, "What the frak is going on here?"

_**Orion's Sword**_

**Civilian Shuttle**

"What the frak were you thinking, yelling about the Sagittaron Freedom Movement like that?!"

Dyson laughed as he shrugged and piloted the shuttle up into the sky. "Let's call it artistic license, Arvin."

Teresa scowled. "What you've done is focus their attention on us. If you hadn't shouted that frakking idiotic thing, the Earth people would suspect Adama and his goons of being behind the ambush. Sow dissent to distract them while we make our getaway. Instead, by painting us as terrorists, you've focused all of their attention on us."

Dyson shrugged again. "Oh, we'll get away with it."

"Pray we do, Dyson," gritted out Teresa.

"And you, Teresa," said Tyler as he turned his attention to his erstwhile girlfriend. "What in the flying frak was that?! You murdered those Earth people in cold blood! What the frak's wrong with you?!"

Teresa flicked her hair as the shuttle shook off atmospheric shear. The sky darkened into the vista of space in the cockpit windows. "Like I said, sow dissent. Confuse them."

"Confuse them!" barked Tyler. "More like piss them off to the point of going to war with us!"

"Oh yeah, they're pissed," put in Dyson. "Look out there, folks."

Through the windows, they could see pinpoints of metal and glowing afterburners shoot out of the _Galactica_'s port pod in sequence and in a line along the pod.

"Vipers," Teresa said, as if there was any doubt as to what they were.

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

"Sitrep!"

Tigh turned at the gruff curt voice of Commander Adama. He saw that as his commander half-walked, half-ran down the steps into the CIC pit, General Landry and Ambassador Mulhern were on his heels.

Tigh's face darkened in disapproval at allowing them into the _Galactica_'s CIC. Nevertheless, he reported, "Terrorists claiming to be from the Sagittaron Freedom Movement attacked a convoy on the road from Olympus to Theonpolis and made off with some crates that the convoy was transporting. Frakkers murdered people from both sides."

"Both sides?" queried Landry for clarification.

A quick glance at Adama earned Tigh a nod for him to be free with his situation report. "Our people and your soldiers were killed in cold blood. Kobol is on lockdown." He nodded up at the DRADIS screen which showed blue-white dots and symbols representing the ships of the fleet. A few of the tiny circles were moving up fast as the top half of a ring swept through the space in an arc. A red dot was moving in from the upper left side. "DRADIS shows one ship coming up from the surface despite the lockdown so we've launched alert birds."

Mulhern's eyes were wide, a rare break from studied neutrality for the seasoned diplomat. "You're telling us that some of your people turned coat, murdered our soldiers and stole valuable items from Olympus?" She turned to Adama. "If we find out your government is behind this, the United Sta—"

Adama raised a hand, interrupting the Ambassador. The hand also forestalled Tigh's upcoming angry retort. "They're not _our_ people, Ambassador."

"You're going to say they're…agents of those Cylons you talked about?" The tone of Mulhern's voice told Adama that she wouldn't buy that story.

"They claim to be from the Sagittaron Freedom Movement. It's a terrorist organization aimed at disrupting Sagittaron's ties with the federal government. They killed some of my people, too, Ambassador. We'll find out the truth as soon as we arrest them and bring them in for questioning."

Before either the Ambassador or Landry could say anything, Adama grabbed the phone off of the central table and pressed a button. "Dipper, _Galactica_ Actual. Major, get them on the wireless and order a stand-down!"

In his Mark VII Viper, the _Galactica_'s CAG, Major Spencer "Dipper" Jackson had the distant boxy shuttle squarely in his sight. "Wilco, Actual." Dipper looked up and around at other Vipers in his squadron. "All right, you heard the Old Man. Keep tight on their perimeter and keep mark-one eyeball for any surprises."

He toggled a switch on his console. "Civilian ship, stand down. Repeat, stand down. State your business."

On the running shuttle, Dyson tapped his headphone and microphone to be sure that it was working. "Uh…this is the _Sword of Orion_. We're a transport ship working off of the civilian travel ship _Orion_. We're just transporting crew back to the ship. We're tired from working down on the planet. Um…we have nothing to declare."

Captain Tyler whispered, "Spooling FTL drive. Two minutes to jump." He nodded to himself. Once his ship sees that the shuttle had jumped out, the _Orion_ would immediately jump to a pre-arranged coordinate to take in the _Sword_, and then make their escape away from the fleet.

On the _Galactica_, Adama heard that the shuttle was from the _Orion_. It was then he knew that he should have listened to Dr. Cyrus' warnings about the crew of that ship. Angrily, he said, "Get Marines on a Raptor Ultra and launch with Viper escort, ASAP! Immediately board and seize the _Orion._"

Also known as a Raptor drop-ship, the Raptor Ultra acted as a personnel carrier capable of holding 14 people, including two pilots. Black-clad and black-armored Colonial Marines scrambled to follow Adama's orders as more Vipers shot out of the launch tubes toward the _Orion_.

On the shuttle, Dyson, Tyler and Teresa could see those Vipers and eventually a Raptor Ultra launch toward their mother-ship. Battlestars could be seen slowly yet inexorably moving to help box in the _Orion_.

"_Stand down!"_ ordered Major Jackson once more.

Dyson nervously glanced at his captain. Tyler was concentrated on the FTL console, mentally coaxing the drive to spool up to the strength needed to jump.

A burst of gunfire swept in front of the shuttle, startling Dyson. His reaction caused the _Sword_ to waver in its course. But it was only a warning shot from a Viper. Again, he glanced back at Tyler. If he didn't stop now, they might become an expanding cloud of freezing gas and debris, fated to orbit humanity's mother-world for eternity, or at least until they burn up in the planet's atmosphere after a decaying orbit.

On the _Galactica_, Adama's sharp eyes held the DRADIS screen as he held his phone to his ear. Suddenly, a new tiny red circle appeared on the screen.

"DRADIS contact!" someone called out.

After a moment, a label appeared beside the circle which turned a friendly blue-white. _Stealthstar_.

Cold crept up Adama's spine. For it to come at this time….

Dee said loudly, "Commander, receiving message from Stealthstar." A slight frown showed her confusion. "'Tally Bandit. Repeat, Tally Bandit.'"

A wash of cold swept through Adama completely. He got the confirmation he didn't want to hear.

"Set Condition One! All civilian ships, spool up FTL drives. Jump to the emergency coordinates. All Vipers, turn back and establish a screen around _Galactica_."

Dee took a deep breath. Clearly, Adama knew what the message meant and it was obviously not good. She spoke into her microphone without any hesitation. "Action Stations, Action Stations. Set Condition One throughout the fleet. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill."

Ambassador Mulhern exchanged a worried look with General Landry as the hatches leading out of the CIC slammed shut.

"Commander, what's going on?" she nervously asked.

Adama only watched the DRADIS intently, grimly and silently.

_**Orion's Sword**_

Dyson looked around out the cockpit windows to confirm what he was seeing. Surprised, he said, "Captain, sir, the Vipers, they're leaving us!"

"Why would they do that?" wondered Teresa aloud.

Tyler nodded. "Let's not waste this blessing. Throttle up!"

The shuttle immediately sped up straight for the _Orion_'s yawning open docking bay in the head of the ship.

As the pancake head of the salvage ship loomed ever closer, white lights flashed far in the dark distance. Tyler leaned close to the DRADIS in his console. Eventually, the DRADIS informed him that there were seven Cylon baseships even though they were of an unfamiliar configuration. One of them was unusually large.

"Holy Lords…," gasped Tyler.

The shuttle plunged into the docking bay, its bottom screeching and screaming against the deck, causing everyone onboard the _Sword_ to bounce in their seats and wince. Up in the ship's bridge, Sora Tyler had also seen the baseships jump in. She thanked her lucky stars that she already had the FTL drive spooled up.

The _Orion_ vanished in a flash of white light and blue Cherenkov radiation. Unknown to everyone, Teresa Manning was grinning in delight.

The Cylons were back.


End file.
